


Pushing Up Daisies

by lakeghost



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Flirting, Baked Goods, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Gen, Light Angst, M/M, Major Character Injury, Meet-Cute, Meeting the Parents, Mild Blood, Mild Gore, Romantic Fluff, They're both so dumb, Wakes & Funerals, auxiliary coffee shop au, florist alucard, florist/funeral director au, funeral director trevor, ish, lisa and drac are such nerds i love them, playing fast and loose with the belmont family tree, to a degree
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:53:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25020448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lakeghost/pseuds/lakeghost
Summary: The funeral needs flowers. The florist needs customers. Sounds straightforward enough.
Relationships: Alucard | Adrian Tepes | Arikado Genya/Trevor Belmont
Comments: 20
Kudos: 115





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> the image of Trevor wielding a trocar just makes me happy, okay?

Adrian hung up the phone with more force than necessary and winced. Thankfully, no one was around to see his abuse of company property. This particular customer had such a way of getting under his skin. Any time “Belmont Funeral Care and Cremations” popped up on the list, he knew he was going to leave the shop with a headache. For the moment, the issue had been sorted. Apparently, Becca had used white carnations instead of pink in some of the bouquets, and they needed to be replaced _immediately_. She was on her way over now. Adrian let his head fall onto his folded arms.

The shop was small, with an enclosed patio in the front to compensate for the tiny indoor space. From where Adrian was sitting at the counter, ready-made arrangements and loose stems filled his peripheral vision and obscured the cloudy vinyl that surrounded them. Most of their business came from custom orders by other local establishments, so pedestrian customers were sparse.

Adrian rolled his head slightly and his hair slid along his back to fall over his shoulder. Maybe he just had a low tolerance for irritation. Nearly all his human interaction took place with coworkers or cashiers. He wasn’t used to socializing and navigating the many quirks and frustrations of an actual personality. The swivel squeaked loudly as Adrian sighed and sat back up against the chair. 

Trevor, the particular Belmont with whom he usually spoke, was little more than a voice on the phone. The funeral director was not only picky, but he would consistently call late for last-minute adjustments, and mail special vases or extras to be included in arrangements. At first Adrian thought this was normal for the profession, but after a few weeks of filling orders for the other homes in town it was clear that this was a Trevor-specific issue. Adrian didn’t even blame the other employees - they weren’t at fault for Trevor’s attitude.

Adrian could admit to himself that he was a part of the problem. He’d goad the poor man or play dumb just to get a rise out of him. It was almost nice to get banter and pushback from Trevor. He suspected it had something to do with being an anonymous voice. Even if people didn’t recognize Adrian as a supernatural element, they were often unsettled. His uncanny movement and uncommon eyes may not peg him as a dhampir, but it certainly made conversation with strangers more difficult. And so, as much as he dreaded slogging through Belmont’s fussy delivery notes, there was a part of him that looked forward to their verbal sparring.

***

Looking at it again, the memo clearly said “eastern entrance”. Adrian crumpled the paper and leaned his head back on the side of the van. At least most of his face had been covered by the staggering arrangement in his arms when he stumbled into the visitation. The entire room of mourners turned their attention away from the front of the makeshift aisle to the interloper.

He was pretty sure Trevor had managed to bruise his arm with how brusquely he shoved Adrian back out the door.

“What the _fuck_ do you think you’re doing?” Trevor kept his voice hushed, but his fists were clenched.

“I just -” Adrian was still reeling from the embarrassment and the shoving, and was now looking at the previously faceless Trevor. And what a face it was. Before he unpacked those thoughts further, Trevor tapped him roughly on the shoulder. Adrian growled reflexively.

“The main entrance is closed this morning -” Trevor searched for the convenient nametag pinned to the hideous uniform polo Adrian was wearing. “Oh. Adrian.” His tone softened, but the fury didn’t leave his eyes. “East door. Don’t mess up next time.”

He spun quickly and paced back into the building through the main entrance.

This was maybe ten minutes ago. This was why Adrian didn’t usually do deliveries. In his refusal to ask for help or clarification, he’d interrupted a complete stranger's eulogy, loudly announcing his presence, and now he was sneaking through back hallways, utterly lost.

Adrian crept around the corner. There had to be someone back here. Who had he spoken to on the phone? He realized he’d pretty much only ever dealt with Trevor and couldn’t remember who else worked here.

He passed an empty office with desks full of papers, also deserted. Maybe he could just leave the flowers here? It was just the one arrangement, someone would find it, right? Adrian readjusted the vase against his shoulder and trudged forward.

He was about to abandon ship when he discovered the crematory. Kneeling to the side of the retort was a tall woman with dark hair streaked with grey. It was pulled into a bun, coming loose as she adjusted something on the side of a lift. Based on the fact she was doing mechanical repairs, Adrian assumed she wasn’t a guest.

He cleared his throat.

The woman turned at the sound and swiftly stood. “Can I help you?” Her voice was kind but firm. She was clearly prepared to usher this idiot back to the public space where he belonged.

She set aside her allen wrench and moved to meet Adrian at the doorway. He attempted to push foliage aside to get a better look at her nametag.

“Oh! You must be the florist.” Her voice softened as she approached.

“Is it that obvious?” He smiled and extended his hand. “I’m Adrian.”

She shook it, careful not to upset the flowers. “Yve. Or Dr. Belmont, if you must.”

“Doctor?” Immediately, Adrian regretted his tactless mouth.

Yve laughed and stepped past Adrian into the hall, gesturing for him to follow. “Sometimes you change your mind late in life. I went to school for one thing, married into a family business. You know how it is.”

Adrian nodded from behind his flowers. He did not know how it was. He was also very uncomfortable and desperately wanted to flee. “I see.”

He followed Yve past the largest room, the one he’d stumbled into earlier, and caught sight of Trevor standing at the wall, watching over the gathering. A fresh wave of embarrassment washed over him.

Yve continued to make small talk as she led him to the garage. “I’ll admit, it’s a little exciting to finally meet the mysterious ‘Adrian’ I’ve heard so much about.”

The florist nearly dropped the vase. “Oh, um, good things, I hope?” Adrian cursed Trevor for being an irritating ass and then himself for letting it get to him. If they lost orders over this, Maggie was going to have his head on a stick.

He was surprised to hear Yve laugh. “I think we all assumed Trevor was leaving out some details. You seemed perfectly polite when we spoke on the phone.” She looked over her shoulder to check she was still being followed. “Almost there.”

Yve opened a metal door with chipped white paint to a garage, currently housing two hearses. She walked over to the nearest vehicle and opened the passenger side door. “If you could, I’ll have you put those in the seat.”

Adrian was relieved to finally set down the beast of an arrangement. He managed not to slosh any water on the upholstery, but winced as some of the blooms in the back got crunched. He fussed over the peonies as Yve leaned over the open door, arms crossed over the window. Adrian could feel her eyes boring a hole in him.

“I hope I haven’t completely ruined your relationship with Maggie’s. Your business is really important to us.” Satisfied that the bouquet was presentable, Adrian moved to stand and thumped the back of his head on the roof of the car, forcefully. He bit his lip and kept quiet, standing up fully as a few black spots faded out of his vision.

“Oh! Are you alright?” Yve stepped out from behind the door. “I should have warned you the ceiling was low.” Her expression was practiced and neutral, but her eyes looked close to laughter.

“S’fine.” Adrian rubbed at the lump. He couldn’t even apologize without injuring himself. At least Trevor wasn’t here to see it.

“That sounded terrible.” She frowned at him. “Can you spare a few minutes to wait in the office? I don’t need the weight of your concussion-induced traffic accident on my conscience.” Yve wasn’t waiting for an answer. She gently prodded Adrian’s shoulder and moved him to the door as he opened and closed his mouth like the world’s most pathetic trout.

She led him back through the maze of beige wainscotting and carpet tiles to the office. “Before you hit your head, I was going to tell you not to worry. You, and the rest of Maggie’s employees, of course, have always been professional with your service. It’s hard working with our hours and custom orders, a mix-up was bound to happen. She smiled as they entered the room and guided him to one of the desk chairs.

Adrian nodded. “I’ve probably said some things I didn’t mean to Trevor, specifically. He can be very …” Adrian scrambled for an appropriate descriptor.

“Intense?”

Adrian laughed a bit. “I was thinking neurotic, moreso. But seeing him today, it’s -” he cleared his throat, “It’s clear it comes from a place of compassion.”

“It seems like my son has made a real impression on you.” Yve smiled and leaned against the other desk in the room. She took in Adrian’s confused expression and laughed. “Did you think the matching last names were just for show?”

Adrian coughed a laugh to mask his embarrassment. If a lightning bolt could zap him out of existence about now, that would be great. “No, I guess … I don’t know. I hadn’t really thought about it.” He rubbed at the swelling at the base of his skull. It was already fading. “I should probably leave now, right?”

Yve tilted her head sympathetically just as her phone buzzed. She checked the screen and looked back to Adrian. “I’ll take it as a complement - either I look young for my age or I’ve raised a pathologically independent son.” She smirked. “I wasn’t kidding about you passing out. Just wait in here for ten minutes or so before you head out, okay? I need to help close out the service.” She raised her eyebrows as she searched for understanding.

Adrian nodded. His head was spinning a bit, but he doubted it was from banging it into the hearse.

“And great work on the flowers. I’m sure the family will appreciate them.” She stood and straightened her jacket, before succinctly exiting the office.

Adrian was confident he was fine, and should have left as soon as Yve was out of the room, but something about her demeanor challenged him to actually wait the full ten minutes. Of course, he couldn’t just escape with his minor injuries and be done with it - this was the Belmonts’ lair after all.

  


“How’s the head?” Trevor was leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, stupid smile on his stupid face. Adrian looked up from his phone and glared, but was cut off when an ice pack was lobbed at his face.

Adrian caught it and sneered. “I’m flattered,” he said as he pressed the packet to his head, “You went to all the trouble of hunting down an ice pack for me?”

Trevor scoffed. “I hate to break it to you, but you’re in a funeral home, one that offers green and home services, to boot. Our ice pack stock is overflowing.” He considered Adrian for a moment. “I’m sorry if I snapped at you earlier. I was sort of in work-mode and wasn’t expecting … you.”

Adrian let his head fall to the side, observing how the yellow hall lights framed Trevor’s silhouette in the door. “It was my mistake. I was pissed off and didn’t read the memo.”

With a shrug, Trevor entered the room and took a seat in the other desk chair, extending his legs to wheel it back a few feet.

“Does that happen a lot?” Trevor smirked.

Adrian narrowed his eyes. “Most people don’t leave multiple paragraphs of notes.”

Trevor shrugged again. “I want to make sure I get it right. Which, by association, means I need to get you to get it right.” The man had taken a ballpoint pen off the desk and was spinning it over his knuckles. It was somehow even more annoying than if he had just been clicking it; as much as the deft movement was hypnotizing, it was weirdly ostentatious. Adrian chose to ignore it.

“So you’ve decided to take this out on your poor neighborhood florist?”

“I would argue it’s ‘florist _s_ ’. You’re not the only one who has to deal with me.” Trevor kept spinning the pen and Adrian gripped his phone tighter to keep from knocking it out of his hand. “But somehow you’re the only one I regularly find myself arguing with.”

“Becca and Troye are just blinded by your good looks, so they don’t complain.”

“Is that so?” Trevor finally stopped fidgeting with the pen and leaned back in his chair.

“You can knock that preening look right off your face. I’m just saying that my coworkers’ _subjective_ experience has affected my _objective_ reality,” huffed Adrian. He set aside the ice pack.

“All I’m hearing is that I'm mind-bendingly beautiful.”

“You’re such an ass,” said Adrian. “But, shockingly, that’s not the reason I need to leave. I have actual work to go do.” He tucked his phone in his pocket. Why was he flustered all of the sudden?

“Oh.” Trevor’s face dropped for a second before it returned to an easy smile. “Well, in that case, don’t let me keep you. I’m sure the flowers miss you.”

Adrian couldn’t stop the grin from reaching his face as he stood. He shook his head and he could feel a blush rising on his cheeks.

He mumbled a goodbye as he left the room, followed by Trevor’s poorly muffled laughter.

***

An order of wreaths came in a few days after. Becca was at the counter, scrolling through her deliveries for the day while Adrian knelt behind her, cleaning the fridge.

“That motherfucker,” Becca whispered. She glanced back to see Adrian halfway inside the cooler, scrubbing meticulously at a black smudge of unknown origin. She nudged his leg with her foot. “Hey. It looks like your Belmont wants to see you again.”

At this, Adrian sat back and turned to his coworker. He brushed away the strands of hair falling loose from his ponytail with the back of his forearm. “Pardon?”

Becca smiled and rolled her eyes. “Trevor went off in the ‘additional notes’ section again. You’ve been requested.”

“Does he not realize that’s not how this works?” Adrian leaned back against the edge of the fridge. 

Becca shrugged and opened the drawer for the keys. “You can tell him that yourself.” She looked back to the monitor. “It looks like they need four wreaths by two. I should be back by then, so the van’s all yours.

Adrian groaned as he was left to finish opening the shop.

  


“Just so you know, a character limit isn’t a challenge.” Adrian elbowed open the _north_ entrance with wreaths hooped around his arms. Trevor had begun his magnum opus with the drop-off specifics in all-caps, and repeated the instruction multiple times in the body of text. It was a good thing Adrian was past embarrassment and just wanted to kill him now.

“Not if you’re a coward.” Trevor got up from one of the low chairs along the sides of the room and met Adrian at the door. “Damn, I didn’t actually think you’d be the one they sent. Here, let me help you.”

Trevor held open the glass door the rest of the way. Once inside, Adrian got his first good look at the main room. All the chairs were stacked out of the way, leaving the space empty. It was aggressively neutral-looking. He noted the wreath stands at the far end and turned.

“Hold on a sec, I can take it from here.” Trevor rested his hand on Adrian’s shoulder. It was warmer than he expected. He shrugged it off.

“This is the only delivery I’m making today. Hopefully this week. Can’t I at least move these the last thirty feet?”

“I’ve got it.” Trevor extended his arms to take the wreaths. Begrudgingly, Adrian handed them over, taking in the tone of his forearms beyond his cuffed sleeves and the way his shirt pulled over his shoulders. An objective observation.

“You’re the most chaotic control-freak I think I’ve ever met.” Adrian looked down and dusted off his hands.

“And you’re the most aggressive shrinking violet I’ve had the pleasure of doing business with.” Trevor smiled at the release of tension in the room. “I might have to find a different way to get your attention, now that my identity has been revealed.”

“Wouldn’t want this relationship to lose its flame.”

“That’s the spirit.” 

***

“Knock knock.”

Adrian jumped slightly and looked up from his ribbon curling to see Trevor hulking in the doorway, juggling a tray of coffees and an umbrella. He smirked. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

Adrian set down the scissors, lest he be tempted to stab the intruder, and crossed his arms. “Hello.” His voice came out icier than he’d intended. Shit. His hair must be a mess too. It had been humid and rainy all day and he doubted it was in any sort of order.

“Ouch.” Trevor fully entered the tent and settled against one of the metal display frames directly across the desk from Adrian. “I hope I’m welcome. If not, I’ll take my coffees and go.” As he spoke, he set down the little carrying tray and removed his own cup, leaving behind the other and a diverse selection of sweeteners and creamers.

“Sorry. I’ve talked to like three people all day. And one was a wrong number.” Adrian inspected the offering before him. “Is this for me?” he said hesitantly.

“Oh, sorry, it’s for the ficus. Thought it looked a little parched. _Yes_ it’s for you.” He drew his eyebrows together a bit. “Halfway through the line I realized I had literally no idea what you liked, and I didn’t have any way to ask, so I grabbed two of everything.”

It took a moment for Adrian to realize he was smiling to himself. He delicately extracted the cup from the cardboard tray and looked up through his lashes at Trevor. “Is this your way of asking for my number? For coffee-related emergencies?”

Trevor hid his face as he took a sip of his drink. “I mean, if you’re offering. Or you could just tell me what you want next time.” Adrian’s eyes widened slightly. “Not that there’s a next time. Or that this is a first time. I just had an open hour and I was on this side of town, so ... fuck.” The man’s ears had flushed to a delicious red hue. He kept his eyes trained on his shoes.

Adrian extended his hand, waiting. “If you want my number, I need something to type it into.” Not for the first time, he thanked his lucky stars he could barely blush. “Cool under pressure” was about sixty percent of his personality.

Trevor relaxed his shoulders and fished his phone out of his suit jacket. The case had clearly seen better days, and the screen was cracked in two places. He handed over the device.

With a satisfied smile, Adrian entered his number. “For coffee-related emergencies.”

“Of course,” said Trevor, grinning. He seemed to think for a moment before he checked his watch. Because he was wearing a watch. “If you want to learn all my dirty secrets, I’m afraid there’s not much on there.” Adrian hadn’t realized he was taking so long. Was he taking a long time? Or was Trevor just messing with him? Did he look too intense? God, he hoped he didn’t look as flustered as he felt.

Adrian did his best to look nonchalant as he handed the phone back. “No snooping, I promise,” he said as Trevor tucked the phone back in his pocket.

“Is it terrible if I leave now?” Trevor said apologetically.

“Of course not. Unless this coffee drop-off was just a pretense and you were hoping to get to know me better. In that case you’re doing a terrible job.” Adrian smiled behind the paper cup.

“I mean, I technically have half an hour before anyone expects me back. A client changed their mind on embalming services this morning. My sister’s still sorting out the paperwork, but it means I didn’t have much to do today. I was going to bring her a coffee, but when I recognized the shop next door, plans changed.”

Adrian pulled back from his cup. “You’re saying I basically stole this from your sister.”

“If by ‘steal’ you mean ‘guilted me into buying you treats’, then yes.” Trevor looked away and toyed with some greenery near his hip.

Adrian shocked his head and chuckled lightly. “You have siblings, then?”

“Two sisters, both younger. You?”

“Only child.”

“For some reason, that doesn’t surprise me.” Trevor smirked. Adrian kept the pout off his face at the cost of a glare. “Hey, I didn’t mean to offend. Only children are often more successful than their besiblinged peers.”

Adrian shook his head and tucked a runaway lock of hair behind his ear. “First: ‘besiblinged’ is absolutely not a word. And second, I’m currently a passable florist in a passable florist’s shop. Hardly a career triumph.” As he quipped, he dug through his pockets for a hair tie. Even if he couldn’t see it, something had to be done.

“I hope Maggie doesn’t hear that kind of talk,” Trevor said as he raised his eyebrows, “And look at you, correcting the grammar of one of your pillar clients after he generously bought you a beverage. That’s a real power move. Or maybe you’re just an idiot. But I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt.” He punctuated his comment with a sip of coffee.

Adrian growled. There was no hair tie to be found. Trevor strolled in here with his perfectly mussed, rain-kissed head, and Adrian was stuck looking like he stepped out of a tornado. He remembered he was still technically having a conversation with said head and replied, “How gracious.” Hands now free of pockets, he toyed with the scissors in front of him. “Speaking of, I feel like I owe you now. For this.” He nodded to his cup.

“I don’t think either of us make enough money to warrant writing up a formal IOU. Let’s consider it a gift.”

“I think gifts are a bit beyond the capacity of acquaintances,” said Adrian as he stood, “Let’s trade.” He stepped inside the shop proper and dug through the miscellaneous stems that had yet to be displayed.

After a second, he returned to the tent and presented a modest bouquet of warm-hued mums to Trevor, who, after blinking at the offering several times, wordlessly accepted it. He seemed to still be parsing his thoughts when he spoke. “I’m not sure -”

“For your sister. Since I stole her coffee, it seems only fair.” He smiled reassuringly.

“Oh. Sure. Thanks. From her, I mean.” The red had returned en force to the man’s ears, which did a lot to ease Adrian’s own anxiety.

“Of course.” It was with great amusement that Adrian watched Trevor struggle to negotiate his half-empty coffee, a dripping umbrella, and a handful of flowers.

Partway through the door, Trevor paused and looked over his shoulder. “Maybe I’ll see you again?”

With a sly smile, Adrian replied, “I think that’s your decision, as keeper of my number.”

And much as he could manage, Trevor waved dismissively at the florist as he stepped out onto the wet pavement.

***

Trevor set his phone down and paced around the room again. When he got back to the counter, the phone was still there, still opened to “Adrian Tepes” followed by a sunflower emoji. That bastard. He probably just wanted to put a reminder that he was from the florist’s, but he was the only member of Trevor’s contact list with a colorful icon beside it, and stood out like a flashing light. Was Trevor really that old? It never would have occurred to him to annotate his contacts that way. Adrian looked to be in his early twenties, and Trevor was fast approaching his third decade. Really not that far apart. Trevor knew he was just looking for an excuse not to text the man. He already felt like the grim reaper. His world was tempered with grief, and as much as this was his profession, it impacted his life. He didn’t want to scare Adrian off by coming on too strong.

He looked over at the phone again. Still there. He was psyching himself out. This was Alex’s fault. She thought the flowers were hilarious, and would not stop pestering Trevor until he agreed to text Adrian. Trevor sighed. He wasn’t about to go through the trouble of faking a conversation for his sister.

_TB: Hey, this is Trevor_

_TB: Belmont_

How long was a reasonable amount of time for a response? Had he completely misread the situation? Trevor had managed to quit pacing the kitchen and settle on the couch when his phone pinged.

_AT: it’s a bit late for coffee_

_AT: iced latte_

Trevor exhaled a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. Nothing had caught fire. It was fine.

_TB: Am i limited to drinks?_

_AT: it depends …_

_TB: I can cook_

There was a longer pause and yet again Trevor began to slide down the spiral of overthinking.

_AT: invited to your home right away? if you want to murder me, you have to tell me now. Legally._

_TB: We keep all the bodies in the basement. I can show you if you want_

_AT: funny_

_AT: ill bring wine_

After they sorted out the details, Trevor shut the screen and sat forward. With his elbows on his knees and the edge of his phone pressed to his forehead, he started to work out a plan for how exactly he was going to become a decent cook in the next week.

***

Somehow, it hadn’t occurred to Trevor that Adrian would be wearing something other than the garish magenta polo he sported at his job. Trevor himself had opted for a cream-colored, cable-knit sweater, since his day job kept him in a suit most of the time.

When he opened the door, Adrian was facing half-away, chewing at his thumbnail like it had offended him. Other than a shocked expression, he wore a dark velvet blazer and a treacherously low-cut shirt, some absurd flowy blouse that draped unfairly over his body. Was this what people wore? Was Trevor truly this out of touch? He’d thought maybe he’d overdone it with the sweater, but here he was, underdressed and outclassed in his own home. He clenched his jaw. He just needed to survive this date. Then his family would leave him alone and he could go back to his life.

“Come on in.” Trevor did his best impression of someone who was confident and composed. Adrian seemed to be buying it, for the moment. The other man smiled graciously and stepped inside.

“I appreciate the clarity on which entrance I was looking for,” said Adrian with an easy tone. His smile was still a bit nervous. “Somehow I managed not to notice the whole other fucking dwelling unit in the backyard when I was here before.”

Trevor walked toward the kitchen. “It’s sort of hidden away. Used to be the carriage house, way back when.” He pulled down a couple glasses from the cabinet over the sink and flicked his eyes back to Adrian. “The commute’s short.”

Adrian laughed softly and ran his eyes across the cramped kitchen for a seat. “I’d imagine,” he said distractedly. He set the bottle of wine he’d been fidgeting with on the counter. The label was in an illegible lacy script, probably not in English. “A hostess gift,” he smirked. “I’ll be honest and admit I stole this from my parents’ wine cellar. Well, technically, my mother did the thieving.” He paused and looked up at Trevor, who was shaking his head as he checked in on the stove. “What?” he demanded as he narrowed his eyes.

“Nothing,” said Trevor with a chuckle. “Your parents, do they live in town?” He’d intentionally not offered Adrian a seat. He wanted to see just how long he would stand awkwardly before saying something. Trevor was sure he was at a disadvantage here, and he wanted any upper hand he could grasp. Not that this was a negotiation or some kind of fight; it was just that “date” wasn’t really a part of his vocabulary, and he wasn’t about to let what sparing experience he had at taking control of a situation go to waste.

Adrian decided he’d had enough and stepped up behind Trevor, peering over his shoulder at the soup he was attending to. Trevor glanced down and noticed the heeled shoes the other man was wearing. Dick. He’d thought he seemed taller.

“They live an hour or so west. They both work at the university hospital.” Adrian seemed uninterested in his own answer as he delivered it. “What’s that?”

Trevor could feel Adrian literally breathing down his neck and focused on stirring. 

“Dinner.”

“Quelle surprise.”

“It’s not my fault you ask stupid questions,” said Trevor. “Why don’t you have a seat and open your contraband wine.”

“Trying to get rid of me?” Adrian asked as he returned to the other side of the counter. He settled gracefully onto one of Trevor’s shitty barstools like it was a throne.

“Just needed some space to breath,” mumbled Trevor.

Trevor used his time with the soup to rack his brain for suitable conversation topics. He couldn’t bring himself to write up talking points beforehand, even if he probably should have. Adrian already knew what he did for work, which was a relief. That definitely put a few more topics on the table. Maybe not all the gorey details, but Adrian seemed pretty understanding to begin with. Which might be worth asking about in its own right. The family business consumed most of his time. Of course, discussion of his family naturally led to “the family hobby”, as they referred to it.

To call it “monster-hunting” would be fallacious, but it was in the right ballpark. It was mostly gathering information from old books and talking to the right people; a few long weekends here and there tracking down the odd rogue hell-beast. Somewhere along the family tree, his mother’s side had turned their focus from slaying creatures to compiling their collective knowledge into something useful. Demons and ghouls weren’t much of a threat in the modern world, but when one appeared, it helped to have a stash of holy weapons in the basement and know what you were dealing with.

Obviously, this was not public information. Which made “getting to know you” questions even more of a minefield. 

While Trevor finished preparing dinner, they fumbled through conversation as well as could be expected. After some initial navigation through the waters of “my family is great but also weird and a little fucked up in ways I don’t feel comfortable talking to you about yet”, discussion flowed to something much easier: terrible customers. They both had plenty of horror stories about high maintenance relatives that appeared out of nowhere with absurd demands, and of course people that didn’t seem to understand that the price of flowers and caskets were largely set by the market, and this was, in fact, a business establishment.

  


This carried them through the better part of the meal. At some point, there was a lull, and Trevor made an observation.

“I didn’t notice your ears before,” said Trevor as he gestured at his own, “A buddy of mine kept saying he was going to get them done, but changed his mind after he saw some pictures of bad infections. He settled for a new tattoo.”

Adrian looked startled, and fluttered one hand self-consciously to an ear, brushing his fingers over the fine point.

Trevor covered his face with his hand. “Fuck, that’s probably like a really personal thing to comment on. I just meant - they look good.” He pulled his hand away to look at Adrian. “I was just a little surprised.”

Adrian’s smile was tight-lipped, but didn’t harbor any resentment. “I suppose I don’t come off as the sort of person who goes in for extreme body modification.”

“You’d be surprised. There was a gal in my restorative art class who said maybe ten words all semester - I found out later she had a forked tongue.”

“That’s … very interesting. I realize that coming from a small town might affect my odds, but I don’t believe I’ve ever met someone with a split tongue.” Adrian tapped his nails on the foot of his glass, pensive.

Trevor poured himself more wine and leaned back in his chair. “I had a tongue piercing for a little while, if that does anything for you.”

Adrian cocked one eyebrow.

Trevor shrugged. “It was in high school. I was trying to impress a guy.”

With a sly smile, Adrian replied, “Did it work?”

“I think he just thought it was edgy to date the mortician’s kid.” Trevor grinned. “After a few months of putting up with my tiresome personality, I was promptly dumped. Did get pretty good with my tongue though.”

Something flickered behind Adrian’s eyes. “Oh?”

“I mean, I haven’t had any complaints,” said Trevor in a level tone. He could feel his pulse pick up.

Adrian’s smile curled further, as he rose from his seat. “I’d imagine their mouths were fairly busy at the time.”

Trevor pushed back his chair slightly as Adrian approached. He crossed his arms. “Are you calling me a liar?”

With a disinterested hum, Adrian sank to straddle his legs, resting his weight on Trevor’s thighs as he lay both arms over the back of Trevor’s chair.

Trevor imagined the scene would be much hotter if they weren’t cast in blue-ish fluorescent light next to a pile of dishes in the sink, but he’d take what he could get.

Adrian was looking at him thoughtfully, his odd eyes hawklike as he tilted his head to the side. Almost to himself, he nodded, and began to lean forward.

Impatient, Trevor moved his arms to grasp Adrian’s shoulders, pulling their mouths together. Adrian gasped slightly in shock, and Trevor’s tongue rushed forward to fill the space. He turned his head, exploring, when he nearly cut himself on an unexpected hard edge. Adrian moved away sharply but kept his hands in place where his long fingers had tangled in Trevor’s hair. He’d pulled his lower lip into his mouth and was looking at Trevor with a surprisingly sheepish expression. Trevor blinked in confusion.

“I didn’t mean to startle you. I probably should have said something before, but … uh, I got a little caught up in the moment,” said Adrian quietly.

Trevor smiled. He was still confused, but he did think he had the upper hand now.

“I don’t typically show them off, but at this juncture, it seems a little absurd to be bashful, no?” The man on top of him bared his teeth, pulling his lips beyond how he typically smiled.

Trevor had taken note of his teeth before - they were exceptionally straight and white, and if he was honest with himself, he was jealous. His own teeth were shit.

Trevor sat up straighter to get a better look.

“ _Jesus_.” Trevor had seen pictures of people with fangs before, but this was something else. Frankly, they looked more like the set on the one vampire he’d seen as a kid than artificial veneers. But nothing about Adrian had set off any red flags. This was clearly just good craftsmanship. Truly stellar work.

Adrian pulled his lips closed and studied Trevor for his further reaction.

“I’m just - how much did those cost?”

Adrian threw his head back in a laugh. Now that Trevor was looking for it, the points of his canines were unmistakable.

“It was … a long story. But yes, it wasn’t without a hefty pricetag. And I’m warning you now, they’re sharp.”

Trevor couldn’t help shaking his head. “I can’t believe I was worried about being the weird one. It’s good to know I’m not going to be a corrupting influence on your life.”

Adrian knotted his delicate fingers deeper into the hair at the nape of Trevor’s neck. “I’d argue we’re evenly matched.”

“Care to test that theory?” Trevor asked playfully.

Adrian barely managed a mumbled “shut up” before descending into the kiss once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been banging my head on the wall trying to write the second half of my Castlevania Being Human AU (the whole thing is plotted! i have a scene list and everything!), but it's going nowhere, so instead of, idk, working on other fics-in-progress or *gasp* real life stuff, i decided to hammer out this thing that probably appeals to like three people  
> I felt like I couldn't rely on my typical writing crutches with this piece, so I'll admit I'm not as confident in its quality as I'd like to be - my comfort zone is in the rearview mirror for sure. But it's still some kind of practice, and hopefully some folks will get a kick out of it.
> 
> Take care out there :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who do you call when you're out of options?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot thank everyone who commented enough! The response to the original piece was such a wonderful surprise! I hope this chapter delivers :)  
> Happy Solstice!

Another pair of headlights blinked into existence on the horizon, growing steadily, before the car attached sped past the shoulder where Adrian found himself. He sighed and rested his forehead on the steering wheel. Of all the nights to break down, it had to be tonight, when he looked one severed head short of a serial killer and lacked a back-up plan.

He’d done a decent job of covering the doe in the trunk with garbage bags, but he’d intended to drain it properly once he got back to the apartment, so the longer he sat here, the more of a mess he was facing when he got back. Adrian carefully bit his lip as he considered his options. He could take it back out of the trunk and gorge himself in the ditch alongside the highway, which, in addition to being extremely unpleasant, still left him and his vehicle doused in blood, now sans the explanatory deer. Maybe he could call a cab? Granted, that would mean that he would need to return to the car tomorrow, by which point the flies and smell would surely kick off an interesting conversation with whatever towtruck driver or repairperson he’d escorted to the site. The dhampir groaned. He didn’t expect this to be the situation in which not having any close friends nearby came back to bite him. His typical failsafe, a parent, wasn’t even an option tonight - they were both out-of-state for some synthetic biology conference.

Another car whizzed by, briefly illuminating Adrian in its white glare. He tapped his fingers across the steering wheel and pulled out his phone. Was he really doing this? He took a deep breath and called. The seconds between rings were excruciating. Adrian chewed at the edge of his ring finger nail, wincing at the lingering taste of blood trapped there. The line rang again and Adrian was about to hang up when a tired voice answered.

“Hello?”

“Trevor?” Adrian was suddenly struck with the realization he had no idea what he was going to say. There was muted rustling on the other end and the sound of movement. “Sorry for calling so late.”

“Adrian? Wha -” Trevor cleared his throat, heavy with sleep. “Hold on, sorry. I didn’t see the caller ID. What’s happening? Is everything okay?” His voice quickly turned sharp with concern. Adrian laughed lightly to dispel his worry.

“It’s fine. I’m fine. It’s just - ugh, I hate this. I didn’t know who else to call.” Adrian quickly checked the time - nearly one, on Sunday night. Great work.

“This sounds eerily like you need someone to help you bury a body. Which, if that’s the case, I know a guy.” Despite his jest, Trevor sounded wary.

“Hilarious.” Adrian took a deep breath. “I was out driving, and I hit a deer.”

“Shit! I thought you said you were fine?” Adrian could hear bedsprings creak as Trevor got up.

“I am! Completely fine. Please don’t freak out. Just a little shaken. The car’s mostly fine too.” _God, this was a bad idea._

“I’m not freaking out,” snapped Trevor. Adrian could hear doors opening. 

“I just need a ride back into the city, I’ll pay you back. Fuck, I’m sorry -”

“Where are you?” Trevor cut off his rambling and left no space for argument.

With a quiet sigh of relief, Adrian did his best to give exact directions to his remote location.

  


Adrian tilted his head to inspect the dent. He’d aimed his kick mostly at the hood and fender, so it should be easy enough to fix without a professional. He just hoped it looked convincingly enough like it had been caused by the deer.

Trevor said he would be arriving in about half an hour, so Adrian had some time to prepare the scene. For whatever stupid reason, he’d been a bit on edge all week. They’d had a few large custom orders at Maggie’s and Troye was out sick, and Trevor had been busier than usual, so they'd barely spoken in the past fortnight. Couple this with the fact Adrian hadn’t been keeping up with his required blood intake, and he may have made some poor choices. Such as not noticing the leaking transmission fluid ahead of time. Or biting a massive, obvious chunk out of the deer’s throat. Or not bringing a spare shirt. Poor choices.

Ultimately, he did have to drag the deer back out of the trunk. Once it was arranged behind the car, a little ways off into the scrub, he peeled off his ruined shirt and stuffed it into the glove compartment. He’d finished wiping as much residue from his face and hands as he could and was sitting sideways on the seat, door ajar, when Adrian heard an approaching car slow and pull onto the cracked asphalt and gravel of the shoulder. He turned to get out and pulled his jacket closed over his bare chest. 

He nearly laughed out loud at the sight of the massive hearse pulled up beside him. He didn’t need to read the tasteful cursive script on the side window to know whose it was. As soon as he killed the engine, Trevor emerged and walked around to meet Adrian. Trevor’s shoulders visibly relaxed when he saw him up and walking around, stifling a giggle. Trevor rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, make all the jokes you want. I share my _car_ car with Alex, but it’s the middle of the fucking night and she’s halfway across town, so I’m working with what I have. He walked closer and paused his step. “Are you topless?”

“And if I am?” Adrian raised an eyebrow.

“Strange man invites me to the middle of nowhere, shows up in a trenchcoat with nothing underneath - there’s only so many ways this ends.” Trevor stepped to the side to get a look at Adrian’s car. He squatted to get a better angle before standing again. The hearse’s headlights provided the only illumination, and Adrian crossed his fingers that this meant Trevor wouldn’t see through his bullshit.

Adrian was so distracted he didn’t notice Trevor had moved again until he was wrapped in his arms. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he said, almost inaudible to human ears.

Trevor stepped back quickly and looked at his feet. “Sorry. If that was weird.”

Adrian smiled, warm despite the minimal deer blood consumed this evening. “I’m the one whose nipples are exposed to the elements here.” He shrugged.

With a shake of his head, Trevor tossed his keys and caught them in the other hand. “Even if you’ve made some questionable fashion choices, I’m still your ride.” He took another step back and gestured grandly to the passenger side door.

Adrian was still bubbling with a mixture of nerves and relief when he got in the vehicle. He took in the ghostly sight of Trevor lit only with the blue-green light from the dash and tried to convince his heart to settle. Like a traitor, his stomach growled loudly, absolutely audible in the small cabin.

“Hungry?” Trevor chuckled as he turned the ignition.

“My dinner plans got changed,” Adrian mumbled.

“And I assume this change in what resulted in your shirtless midnight drive?” Trevor let his eyes pass over Adrian’s slumped body, less than subtly. He hadn’t realized his coat had fallen open. He wasn’t entirely sure what compelled him to leave it open as they pulled back onto the highway.

Adrian considered the barely touched deer they were leaving in the dirt and bit his tongue to hold back a low growl. What a waste. His stomach grumbled again, and he let his head fall into his palm. “More or less,” he said with a sigh.

“Well, lucky for you, your chauffeur could also go for some food.” Trevor let his eyes flick off the road to Adrian’s face for the briefest of moments. The trees blurred into a long green smudge as the ambient sound filled the tiny space.

“Is this a date?” Adrian smirked.

Trevor’s laugh was surprisingly gentle, reassuring in a way Adrian didn’t realize he needed until this moment.

“Have you ever been through an McDonald’s drive-thru in a hearse?”

“You’re kidding.”

“It’s nearly two in the morning, I don’t think Arby’s is open.” Trevor let his deadpan demeanor break for the barest quirk of a smile.

Adrian shook his head, laughing softly to himself. “I suppose there’s a first time for everything.”

  


They continued driving forward, toward the multiplying lights on the horizon.

***

A knife sunk into the wood with a solid _thunk_. Moments later, another blade buried itself in the target, centimeters away. Sylvie took a deep breath. The third blade went a little wide and hit the target hilt-first, before clattering to the ground.

“Oof, nice try.”

They had set up the target in the green space behind the carriage house. Trevor had been on his feet all day and opted to recline in a folding chair to spectate.

“Sure, like that would have killed anything,” Sylvie huffed as she walked across their homemade range to collect her knives.

“You’re not trying to kill anything; you’re trying to hit a target,” Trevor called after her.

Sylvie crossed her arms and glared. “Okay, fine. But you always hit the target, when you can be bothered to try.”

“Did I do something to deserve the attitude? I can go get a headstart on Ms. Clark if you want to get rid of me that badly.” Trevor did a terrible job hiding his smile, and Sylvie quickly broke in response, falling into a laugh.

“I mean it though, what am I doing wrong?” Sylvie was back in place to throw again.

“Nothing - eh, hold on,” Trevor cut off her protests with a waved hand, “You just have to practice more, figure out how to finesse it. From what I’ve seen today, you have a tendency to put a lot of force into the spin. If you really chuck it, it can make it harder to use a consistent amount of power.”

Despite the supportive tone Trevor had taken, Sylvie seemed dissatisfied, as was her right. Alex used to pull the same shit on Trevor all the time, and he hated it.

“That’s a lot of talk coming from a grown man with visible love bites.”

Trevor’s eyes widened as he reflexively tugged up his shirt collar. “I nicked myself shaving.”

As it so happened, Trevor had discovered, following their impromptu date a few nights ago, that Adrian was _very mouthy_ in bed. Initially worrying, considering his dental customization, but Trevor got over it. Obviously.

“The bruises?” Sylvie was drunk on her newfound power.

“I bumped into a … cabinet,” mumbled Trevor. He was going to kill Adrian for this. _No one will see, it’s fine_ , he said. Trevor’s stupid, lust-addled brain only considered work, where he was always wearing at least a button-down. The possibility his _little sister_ would see the lingering marks when he was off the clock did not occur to him.

As soon as Sylvie found a weak spot, her needling was relentless. At least she had moved past her frustration with knife throwing practice.

“Sure. Anyways, it looks like the cabinet had a good time.” Sylvie oozed smugness. Trevor could feel his ears burning. “Will we ever get to meet your cabinet?”

“We are _absolutely_ not talking about this. Holy shit.” His parents and Alex were already far too involved in his work life, he definitely didn’t need his other sibling invading the privacy of his romantic pursuits.

Sylvie sighed dramatically and turned back toward the target. “Fine.”

Recently, Sylvie had been more _teenager-y_ than usual. Trevor had seen her sneak out of the house a handful of times in the past few months. The carriage house had a great vantage point of the backside of the home. He’d sent her a text each time to let her know that one: he’d caught her and deserved older sibling brownie points for not turning her in to their parents, and two: to call him if she got into trouble. It was stupid, really. Their parents didn’t care what she got up to; they’d almost definitely be more upset about the fact she felt like there was something she couldn’t tell them. Both of them could deliver an Oscar-worthy “I’m not mad, just disappointed” speech - mastered after years of dealing with Trevor’s shenanigans. Sylvie talked more to Alex, but from what Trevor had gathered, it had to do with feeling like she was missing out. How could she be destined for heroics if the biggest conflict in her life was whether or not she should go to mortuary school? Trevor still hadn’t figured out how to tell her that the family hobby was more trouble than it was worth.

Three knives sunk into the target in rapid succession, each delivering a satisfying _thunk_. Trevor returned his attention to Sylvie now, proudly yanking the knives out of the wood. She was going to be fine. Of all of them, she was the most cut out for slaying monsters; she had the secret gene. Old-timey societal standards aside, Sylvie would have thrived back when the family name was synonymous with “vampire killer”. She was built for dangerous, bloody adventure.

By comparison, Trevor was more than content to stay in his mortuary, helping people fight their own demons. He didn’t want for anything besides flirting - and occasionally having sex with - the florist. Simple.

***

It had to be monster hunting bullshit, didn’t it? What could have been a pensive walk home had become Trevor anxiously pacing up and down the road, waiting for Adrian to come pick him up.

He would have asked his aunt for a ride, but aside from the guilt of asking his eighty-plus year-old relative to disrupt her evening, there was the sheer embarrassment of not thinking ahead when the whole reason he was visiting in the first place was to talk demon-slaying strategy. Trevor was the only one free this weekend, so he had been summoned to Aunt Lorri’s giant, creepy house in the countryside to discuss some recent rumors.

Lorri embodied the stereotype of “nosy older neighbor” and took genuine pride in getting involved in everyone else’s business. She cast a wide net amongst her various social circles of similarly nosy retirees. While at times irritating, it gave her a good sense of any possible supernatural flare-ups in the area. Usually, it was nothing. Trevor typically didn’t drive out unless there was something else that needed to be done, or Lorri guilt-tripped him into a primarily social visit.

Tonight, Alex had dropped him off so he could take a look at some new weapons his aunt had come across and puzzle out her cryptic warnings. Maybe have some lemon cake. Once everyone was up to speed, Alex would come pick him up. Alas, Sylvie decided that she just _had_ to borrow the car after she got home, and Trevor _could_ just call a cab, so he ceded the communal vehicle for the night. It wouldn’t hurt to get a little extra exercise.

Now that he was at the foot of the winding gravel driveway at the cusp of the dense surrounding woods, Trevor wished he hadn’t given away his protective automobile shell. Lorri seemed more sober than usual, limiting her talk of crystals and cats and jumping right into descriptions of gruesome crimes. She had more hands-on experience with monster … stuff, more than any of the rest of Trevor’s immediate family. She had an intuition the others lacked. It was no surprise Sylvie admired her so much. Even if Lorri was a bit paranoid at times, jumping at shadows, she was never outright wrong. There had been a couple suspect attacks in surrounding towns, far more flagrant than Trevor had ever seen first-hand. Notably, they had all been family contacts. Only briefly, sure, but all people with some tie to this little underworld. Lorri was at a loss for what this thing was. Nothing undead, probably not anything possessed or animated - the combination of power and sloppiness was difficult to pin down. They agreed that it would be prudent to keep tabs on the situation and do a little research. It was reassuring to see the usual excitement in her eyes as she rooted through her bookshelves, knocking aside chachkies with reckless abandon.

Though she claimed not to be concerned, she handed off a duffel bag full of blessed swords to her nephew as soon as his hands were free. It was at this point that Trevor had begun to regret his decision vis-a-vis transportation. Enchanted blades were _heavy._

Trevor tugged at the strap where it was digging into his shoulder. Maybe he should just walk home, take the risk of getting snacked on by a night beast. He was out of practice; it had been years since his last in-the-flesh confrontation, and it didn’t matter that he had a whole bag of weapons if he still only had two hands. It wasn’t properly cold yet, but the temperature had dropped off sharply once the sun set, and Trevor was becoming acutely aware of his lack of gloves. He flexed his fingers to distract himself.

He was considering the fact some monsters were attracted to magic, like sharks to blood, and just how big of an idiot he was for standing out here, a mile and a half hike from the house, unprepared and unprotected, like a supernatural lightning rod.

A silver sedan appeared from the east, kicking up gravel and spattering its shiny hull with muck. The car came to an abrupt stop at Trevor’s feet as the window rolled down. He ducked to get a better look at the driver.

He was met with a harried looking Adrian, scowling at his phone.

“I almost didn’t recognize you, not covered in deer blood.” Trevor tried to get his heart to slow down. He wasn’t sure what prompted the reaction. He felt relieved, but didn’t know the emotion’s source.

Adrian rolled his head to gawk. “Your directions are terrible. Why does your aunt live out here?”

Trevor shrugged and heard Adrian unlock the doors. It was on a ley line and was easy to ward against dark creatures, not that it mattered.

With a sigh, Adrian went on. “I am sorry I’m late. I kept getting turned around. Oh, you can put your bag in the backseat.”

Trevor adjusted the duffel, shifting the bulk against his hip as he opened the door. His chilled fingers fumbled, and he swore as the bag slid from his grip between his shoulder and the seat. He winced at the clatter of blades.

He dropped to his knees quickly, rushing to shove anything that had flopped out back into place. Of course, Adrian was already looming over him, asking questions Trevor didn’t have the answers to.

“Why do you have a bag of swords?” Even as he asked, the pale man knelt to assist Trevor. He frowned at something when he got closer and handed an engraved dagger to Trevor, drawing his hand away abruptly. Trevor was shocked to find a little part of himself disappointed that he’d missed out on a prime meet-cute hand-touch opportunity.

Trevor accepted the dagger and rewrapped it in a towel with the other loose blades. “My aunt’s a collector.”

“These look …” Adrian drew his eyebrows together in concern as he searched for the word. “Expensive?”

Affronted, Trevor replied sharply, “Are you accusing me of something?”

“What? No, of course not. It’s just an odd thing to collect.” Adrian still looked bothered by something, but Trevor was preoccupied trying to find one of the most important things that should have been in the bag. There weren’t any streetlights out here, and the trees blocked out much of the moon. Trevor attempted to shrug nonchalantly, but emoted more of a frustrated twitch instead.

“Yeah, she’s big into medieval stuff. Used to work at a museum, I think she got a taste for it there. Do you see a huge white binder anywhere?” Within seconds, a rectangular object was gently pressed into his chest. “Thanks,” he muttered. Trevor looked up from the bag to meet Adrian’s eyes as well as he could in the low light before he abruptly shuffled to his feet, like a coward.

Before Trevor could reach for the bag, the slight man hoisted the duffel bag onto his shoulder as though it was filled with sawdust and slung it into the backseat. Trevor didn’t feel the need to mask his amusement, as he doubted Adrian would be able to read his expression very well in the dark.

The car flared to life and they took off down the road before either of them spoke again. Trevor was trying to compose himself, putting together his revised plan for the evening and week while fending off intrusive thoughts about the handsome man sitting beside him. He glanced over to see Adrian brutally chewing on his lip and failing to disguise his fidgety hands as they tapped the wheel. Trevor was tempted to wait and see if he would bite hard enough to draw blood but got distracted watching the sharp enamel dig into the flushed skin. He cleared his throat.

“Clearly you have something on your mind. Care to share?”

Adrian flicked his eyes to Trevor momentarily and consciously relaxed his posture, though he continued tapping his fingers.

“I don’t want to be pushy and weird.”

“I can’t in good faith respond to that.” He laughed lightly and noted Adrian’s eye roll. “Just go for it.”

A couple dangerously long seconds passed, watching the headlights float across the cracked asphalt.

“All I want to do is ask about your bag of secrets back there.”

“I don’t blame you, it’s a pretty damn good bag of secrets.”

“What’s the deal with the binder?”

I couldn’t just be about the swords, could it? Trevor had a lie ready-to-go and everything. In the moments it took Trevor to scramble for something, Adrian pressed on, “The Bestiary?”

As though Trevor thought he was referring to a different mysterious binder.

“Oh, yeah. Also my aunt’s. I’ve been helping her out with her novel. Like I said, she’s very into historical stuff, but she’s more … creatively driven.”

“She’s an author?” Adrian sounded genuinely curious.

Trevor laughed. “Yeah, but don’t get too excited. She hasn’t been published yet. She’s really into the world-building aspect of the thing. Thus, ‘the Bestiary’.”

“That thing is giant.”

He wasn’t wrong. The compilation in question was a five-inch, three-ring monstrosity, meticulously tabbed and annotated within an inch of its life. All of the entries were in sleeves, littered with stickie notes of things to add and update. It wasn’t quite as sexy as an ancient leather tome, but it was much more practical.

“You said you were helping her?”

Trevor looked to his feet and stifled the vulnerability that was leaking from his chest.

“I do some illustrations.” He struggled with the term “illustration”. Everybody in the family had to be decent at life drawing. If you saw something weird, you wrote it down and drew a picture. Always. How else were they going to preserve useful information? Alex and Trevor had the most experience with adding sketches to the book, simply as a result of their tendency to get into stupid and dangerous situations, but Trevor had gone a step further, putting in the time to hone his craft.

He looked over to see Adrian grinning, the curve of his pointed teeth highlighted in the light from the dash, eerie and thrilling.

“Can I see?”

“You’re driving.”

“Later, you oaf. What kind of medium do you use?”

“It’s not, I dunno, like a whole thing. Mostly pencil or ink sketches. Nothing fancy.” Trevor shrugged and sank back into his seat.

“It’s still a skill. I’d imagine it’s nice to have a creative outlet with your job.”

Nodding, Trevor sighed. “You’re not wrong there.”

They turned a corner and the glow of the city came into view. Trevor shifted in his seat. He didn’t know whether the car was actually overheated or if he was psyching himself out.

“Your aunt’s book - what sorts of drawings have you done for that?”

“It’s a fantasy thing, you know the type of stuff.” Adrian was staring ahead, nodding and prompting further details. Trevor squirmed internally at the brush of one reality against the other. His fun, as-yet-undefined romantic relationship shouldn’t coexist with his weird family baggage, lest it get poisoned. Trevor gripped the conversation to pull himself out of his thoughts. He just had to trudge ahead and figure out the rest later.

It’s possible he also wanted to impress the man. His fields of expertise were decidedly niche. Adrian had yet to inquire about Trevor’s preferred arterial fluid or the best way to place eye caps, and Trevor had yet to develop the requisite boldness to introduce such topics to the conversation himself. If there was a low stakes way he could flex his intimate knowledge of dark creatures and dangerous beasts, he was going to do it.

“She likes to integrate some religious imagery as well, lots of demons and cursed beings, all tied back to that medieval lore angle. I’ve drawn a few imps, and I did a bigger piece of a golem once.” It was made of snow and took ages to find. They did it a service by deactivating it before it melted.

Trevor smiled, confidence bleeding into his speech. “She has a bit of a soft spot for undead creatures though, ghouls and vampires and the like.”

Adrian smirked. “Oh?”

“The illustration part of it is pretty minimal; it’s mostly her notes about backstory. Vampires, I mean, _her_ vampires, mostly look like regular humans.”

“I see.”

Trevor had only ever encountered one vampire, and he was a kid at the time, so he didn’t have much to add to the compendium. He’d gone on a weekend excursion with his mom and Alex, hoping to meet with one of their contacts who was an expert on the subject. When they got there, the contact was a goopy blood puddle on the floor, and the creature they found hulking over the carnage wasted no time in going for the easiest meal in the room: tiny Trevor, gripping a short sword he barely knew how to use. In the moment, he was frozen, and the thing pinned him to the linoleum in an instant. Yve masterfully chopped off its head without breaking her stride, running her blade through its skull a second time for safety before pulling Trevor out of the mess. Suffice to say, it impacted his feelings about the family hobby. Sylvie might still dream of swashbuckling adventures, but he struggled to look past the reality of it.

“Still scary as hell, but it’s more cerebral. It’s better practice to draw tentacles and spines anyway.”

Adrian was still smiling, but kept his eyes on the road, leaving Trevor to infer what else he was thinking. “What about you, then? You’ve got the whole reformed goth theater kid thing going on, you must have weird hobbies.”

A laugh burst from Adrian’s mouth, surprising them both. “My hometown was a little too rural for me to be a real “theatre kid”. Goth, maybe. But I blame my father for that.”

“Oh?” Trevor mimicked Adrian’s intonation from earlier, and got a shove in the shoulder in response.

“He’s a bit eccentric.” Trevor considered what that might mean, coming from a guy with flawlessly crafted fang veneers.

“You’re not wrong about weird hobbies. If you ever come around to my apartment, I’ll give you a tour of my skull collection.”

“What a line. I’m tempted to jump you here and now.”

“I’m driving.”

  


Trevor decided he would deal with explaining the unfamiliar car in the driveway of the carriage house tomorrow.

***

The tissue paper was organized by color, right beside the corresponding ribbon. The wire had been wrangled back onto its spools and the dusty blocks of floral foam had been banished to a single convenient cupboard. Clearly, business had been slow.

Adrian shared this particular shift with Troye. Even if there was little to no foot traffic, they still needed somebody at the counter while the other was out on delivery. Troye emerged from the cold storage room and walked around the counter to grab the order list. Adrian straightened up quickly, startling Troye.

“Sorry,” he grimaced.

Troye waved it off as he grabbed the van keys off their hook.

“Could I deliver this one?”

This captured Troye’s attention. He spun to face his coworker, striking the median between amused and puzzled. “You hate driving.”

Adrian offered a timid smile. He only barely talked to Becca, and it was only with strong motivation he was willing to challenge the status quo with Troye. With a light shrug Adrian replied, “Tragically, it’s still a necessity of modern life. At least if I take the van I’m getting paid.”

“Okay, cool.” The other man set the keys on the stainless steel counter in front of Adrian and glanced at the order list as he prepared to hand it over. He pressed his lips together to hide a smile.

“What’s that expression for?”

“Nothing, nothing,” assured Troye. He handed Adrian the list and took in his sour expression. “God, lighten up.”

Adrian had long abandoned any hope of regulating his facial expressions. At best, his neutral features were “dissatisfied and aloof”. Holding back a glower as he was, it was no surprise Troye found him off-putting. He opened his mouth to protest and was preempted.

“Don’t worry about it. It looks like there’s an order for Belmont’s.” He gestured to the paper in Adrian’s hands. The man stood and swiped the keys off the counter.

“I don’t see how that matters.”

“I thought you’d started going out with, shit, what’s his name?” Troye frowned. 

“Look, if this is a professionalism thing, I swear it’s not … it’s not even a ‘thing’ really. I was just being stupid.”

“Dude, calm down.” 

Adrian held his breath. If he lost his already meager chance at a casual work acquaintance over this, he didn’t know how he was going to forgive himself.

“I don’t care. I don’t even think Maggie would care. You’re allowed to be a human being.” Troye smiled. The tension in Adrian’s chest didn’t go away, but it didn’t get any worse. He smiled in return.

“You’d think so.”

Troye shook his head sympathetically. “I’m just looking for things to talk about when we’re on the same shift. I feel like I barely know you, it’s sorta awkward, that’s all.” He looked to be considering whether he should pat his coworker on the shoulder, or a similar gesture of goodwill, but wisely decided against it.

“I’m sorry. I mean, there isn’t much to know.” Adrian grimaced and Troye looked doubtful.

“Please don’t apologize, it really doesn’t matter.” A couple seconds passed as they both tried to figure out whether the exchange had ended.

“Um, Trevor,” Adrian blurted. Troye stared at him blankly. “You’d asked who -”

The lightbulb went off right away. “Ha! You’re going to eat each other alive.”

“He has that effect on people.” Adrian smirked.

“Well, I’m sure it’ll be a beautiful memorial service.”

***

Undeniably, drinking blood to survive was a bit more “doom and gloom” than he preferred. Adrian had spent most of his adolescence trying to unpack the ethical implications of his existence. Thankfully, he was in a better place now, where the worst part was the inconvenience. Most of his alternative sustenance came in the form of animals, which was a logistical challenge any way you sliced it.

Once Adrian got over the fact he had to take down a large animal on his own, he had to figure out how to actually do it. He’d gotten much faster and (generally) much neater over the years, but it was still a couple hours gone from his week. It helped to get a sense of what wildlife was in the area beforehand; there are few things more disappointing than stumbling out of a random patch of woods at two a.m., covered in dirt and just as parched as when you stumbled in. As a result, Adrian had taken to scoping things out on his own time.

Heartly Park was smaller, enclosed by the city, and mostly full of rabbits. It would do in a pinch. Usually he turned to the unnamed stretch of woods that ran around the western edge of the city, but game had been thin lately, and Adrian didn’t want to push his luck.

“Remind me why I agreed to do this?” Trevor grumbled from a few feet behind Adrian. He felt a bit guilty for taking them along the patchy deer trail he spotted, but it was too late now.

“Your aunt lives right next to the best maintained state park for a hundred miles in any direction. You’re telling me you never wanted to explore a little? Adrian tried to moderate the giddy energy he felt.

“I didn’t take you for an outdoorsy type.”

Adrian shrugged. “I’m allowed to have layers.”

Shaking his head, Trevor caught up. Adrian was impressed by how agile the other man was. He expected they would have to dawdle along at a snail’s pace, stopping for the human to catch his breath as soon as the slope picked up, but the Belmont got along remarkably well. Either he had one hell of a workout routine or casket-hoisting was excellent cardio.

  


They wandered along for half an hour or so, periods of silence broken up by pleasant conversation. Adrian was expecting to hear more wildlife; before they had even parked he spotted a large group of deer disappearing into the green. Somehow, it was getting quieter the deeper they moved into the trees. Adrian had been more attuned to the sounds and smells of mammals, miscellaneous rodents scattered through the brush. When he thought to listen for birds, he was shocked to hear none.

“Trevor, does it sound quiet to you?”

After a moment, his voice followed. “I thought I might be hearing things.” He let out a long breath. “It’s probably a storm.”

Adrian nodded, distracted as he tried to reassess their surroundings. It was dead silent, an uncanny contrast to the lingering traces of animal smell all around them.

“We should probably turn back then.”

Trevor looked on edge, wary in a way unfamiliar to Adrian. He seemed coiled, ready to strike. He nodded slowly, scanning the trees encroaching on all sides.

The thing struck like lightning, slamming Adrian into the dirt before he even realized he was off his feet. There was a deep snapping sound from within his chest. He whimpered at the stars behind his eyes. From somewhere far away, Trevor shouted in surprise, and the creature turned to look, in the process lifting away the spindly legs pinning Adrian to the ground. The demon flailed its tail and caught Trevor around the waist, knocking him aside before it returned to its catch.

Gasping for breath, Adrian scrambled out from under the behemoth, rapidly trying to process what was happening. The demon - it was obviously a demon - opened its ugly mouth, concentric rings of rotting teeth descending into the abyss of its throat, and hissed, scattering boiling spittle over everything in sight.

Back on his feet, Adrian snarled, pacing back to build distance. The thing chittered in response, presumably tracking the movement. The front part of it, less of a head and more of a wide stump, was bursting with dark, seeping eyes. Adrian doubted the appropriate fight-or-flight response was fight, but it was too late to blame dhampir biology for his problems. He was going to get Trevor home safe, or die trying.

He lunged at the creature, swiping at the eyes, and managed to burst a few along the periphery. It squealed, twisting and flailing, and caught Adrian’s momentum as more legs, dripping and insectoid, emerged from its back and lassoed him toward its body.

It was useless to struggle against the iron grip, but Adrian still tried. In a moment of panic, he pressed his face into the nearest patch of lumpy, slick skin and tore out the largest chunk of flesh his bite would allow. Pitch-black ichor spilled from the wound, coating both of them, and the thing let go.

Adrian spat and coughed into the dirt for less than a second before the thing moved back in. He cried out in agony as pain flooded his lower leg. The demon had skewered him on one needle-like appendage and was now reeling him back in. Against the fire in his leg and the ichor burning through the skin of his mouth and face, he let himself go limp, waiting for one second, then two, until he was dragged into the air, suspended by the meathook through his calf.

The demon lowered its prey and the gaping mouth churned in anticipation. As soon as he was within reach, Adrian sprang to life and clawed at the eyes again, rupturing the orbs like poisonous berries. He dug his hands into the gore as deep as he could, single-minded in his effort to tear this thing to pieces.

Once he crossed some grim threshold, the monster exploded in a burst of ichor and spindly legs, tossing Adrian into the foliage beyond the path. He couldn’t keep himself conscious for more than a second before he went under.

***

Trevor had seen just about everything nature could do to a body. Horrific burns, motorcycle accidents - you name it, he’s handled it. But this wasn’t nature. And this wasn’t a corpse - not yet, at least.

The muzziness faded quickly at the odor of sulfur and char. Trevor shot to his feet and assessed himself - all in one piece, bones and blood where they’re supposed to be - then the situation. He paced forward, trying to hold onto whatever straws of rationality he had.

_Adrian._ Trevor paled. He barely got a look at the thing that attacked them, but it was obviously a demon. It wasn’t survivable.

Maybe if you got lucky, or it got bored, but the _sound_ Adrian’s body made when it hit the dirt, that _alone_ was enough. Nausea gripped his throat, attempting to block out his thoughts.

“Trevor?”

He rushed forward, ignoring the dripping splatters of bile and ichor that coated the leaves along the trail. He caught sight of Adrian’s shoes peeking out from under the greenery.

As they propped him up against a nearby tree, Trevor pulled out his phone.

“Stop. Don’t call 911.”

“What the fuck? No!” Trevor had wadded up his flannel shirt and was failing to stop the blood pouring out of the fist-sized hole in the man’s leg. Obviously there was a lot else wrong, but Trevor only had so many hands.

Adrian groaned and swatted the phone out of Trevor’s grasp, who stared at him in incredulity.

“Don’t call anyone. It’s fine.”

“It’s clearly not fine!” The “not panicking” strategy was a mixed success. He chanced another look at the leg. It was the blood that scared him the most. He’d seen bodies worse off than this, but that was it: they were bodies. The worst had already happened. The brutal conclusion had been delivered. Curtains down. That blood settled and relaxed, it pulled away from the skin and hid until it was time to wash it away. The jettison of blood bubbling up around his fingers was a siren blaring _it’s not over yet_. Trevor kept breathing. It wouldn’t do anyone any good if he had a panic attack right now.

“Trevor, I need you to look at me.”

“Fuck, I am looking!” His voice broke midsentence.

“My eyes are up here.”

There was no hiding the fear in Trevor’s gaze as he tore himself away. He kept focused on those sharp, odd eyes, forbidding himself to look at the rest of his ravaged face. Adrian methodically lifted one leaden arm and rested it on Trevor’s shoulder.

“I should have gone into shock a while ago, right?”

Trevor frowned. “I don’t know how long I was -” Adrian shook his head.

“Bad question. How much blood do you think I’ve lost?”

“Too much.”

The dying man had the audacity to scoff. “Come on, I’m sure you estimate blood volume all the time. Give me a number.”

“Adrian …” Trevor begged.

The man shook his head again, knocking even more strands of cornsilk hair out of the disheveled ponytail into the matted mess around his neck and face.

“Just shut up. I’m going to be fine. But I can’t go to the hospital. Can I trust you?” His eyes implored Trevor more than his words ever could. _Could he?_

Trevor ground his teeth together.

“Yes, yes you can, just, shit -” he bit back tears. “Just tell me what to do.”

Adrian heaved a rattling sigh of relief.

“Call my mom. Please.”


	3. Chapter 3

Lisa Tepes should get a job diffusing bombs for a living. Trevor could hear her moving between rooms and rummaging through drawers the entire time she prompted him with questions. She was breathing heavily, holding back more emotion, but stayed on track with laser focus. Remarkably, she didn’t comment when Trevor couldn’t answer something as simple as “what happened?”. He managed to communicate that Adrian was bleeding, that something had ripped a hole into his leg before it ran off, and that was enough to get some instructions. 

He had to get them both through thirty minutes of hell before Lisa would get to the park. As requested, he kept pressure on the tear in Adrian’s leg. He didn’t dare lift the soaked shirt to see what the demon had done, but it seemed to have stopped bleeding. The man was still breathing - too shallow, but breathing - and his heart was thumping in his chest. Trevor looped Adrian’s arms behind his neck, and slid his own behind Adrian’s knees and shoulders before staggering to his feet. He braced his body against the tree for a moment, steadying himself, and made sure the injured calf was sandwiched between limbs. Adrian made a pitiful sound as his torso was jostled and tightened his grip around Trevor’s neck, his nails digging painfully into the straining muscle. The sharpness pulled Trevor back to reality. They needed to get back to the main path if they wanted to be discovered, and Trevor doubted he could carry Adrian the whole way. Adrian was more conscious than not, but was getting less lucid as minutes ticked by. 

On Lisa’s advice, he also kept talking. Trevor tried to kill two birds with one stone and narrated his efforts to keep collected, specifically, making a list, giving his brain a rabbit hole to fall down that wasn’t the death spiral of panic. Ideally, this would be what happens next, item by item. _We get to the path. Lisa gets here. Then?_ It wasn’t concrete enough to be a lifeline. Instead, Trevor opted for state capitals, and when he ran out of those, European countries.

“Trevor, please shut up,” mumbled Adrian into his chest. He was leaning heavily on Trevor now, one arm slung over his shoulders and the other clutching at Trevor’s grip around his chest.

“Can’t. I have to keep you annoyed and conscious.” They were getting close to the actual trail now; Trevor could see more light filtering in between the tree trunks. Under his splayed fingers, he could feel the unsettling crunch of Adrian’s ribs with each step they took. “Uh, Finland.”

“If I promise -” Adrian inhaled sharply at some sudden pain, “- promise to stay awake, will you shut up?”

“Once you’re sitting down and I can keep an eye on you, or I run out of countries, I’ll stop. Whichever comes first. Did I say Denmark already? If not, I’m adding it now.”

Adrian’s breaths were shallow, but had slowed down a bit since they started walking. Trevor took this as a good sign. He glanced at his watch. _Halfway through._

Adrian mumbled something unintelligible.

“What was that?”

“The Vatican.”

“I said Italy, didn’t I?” Trevor felt Adrian’s face twist into a smile where it was pressed against his blood-soaked shirt. Up ahead, he caught a glimpse of packed dirt, and they pushed on.

  


When Trevor caught sight of the figure jogging up the main path, he scrambled up from his place at Adrian’s side and flagged her down. He didn’t doubt for a second that this was Adrian’s mom; the resemblance was obvious. Once she was within range, she took in the stranger before her, his thin t-shirt soaked in her son's blood, and the tremor in his hands.

“Trevor?” The man nodded lamely and knelt back down in the rocky dirt.

“Adrian said you’re a doctor?”

Lisa set down her backpack and began rolling up her sleeves. “Yes, but that’s less important right now.”

Of course. This was his mom. “Sorry, I -” Trevor gripped his hair and watched Lisa drop to her knees. She held Adrian’s face, trying to get his attention. “He got a lot less responsive a couple minutes ago, I’m not sure - I don’t know-”

“It’s okay, Trevor.” She didn’t look away from her son, who was struggling to focus on the events unfolding in front of him. His eyes opened from their previous half-lidded state when he recognized his mother in front of him. He shook his head awkwardly, and the motion knocked him off balance. He began to slide before Trevor caught his shoulder and righted him against the trunk.

Frowning, the doctor returned one hand to the side of Adrian’s face and placed her exposed forearm on his other side, the skin pressed gently against his jaw. Adrian tried to turn away again.

"What-"

"Not here." His words were labored, dripping with effort, but Trevor took solace in the fact he was still conscious. He trusted Lisa knew what she was doing, at least better than he did.

She glanced over at Trevor and back to her son, only appearing puzzled for a moment before she resumed action.

She nodded firmly. "Let's get your vitals, then."

  


Trevor was thankful for the assistance getting Adrian back to the parking lot. Before, he could carry at least some of his weight, but he was in and out of consciousness the entire white-knuckled trek back down. They loaded him into the backseat, mostly horizontal, so his leg was supported by the seat cushion and his head lay in Trevor’s lap.

Lisa had removed the filthy shirt Adrian was wearing as soon as she recognized the burns spreading across his neck and chest. Trevor fought his guilt now, seeing how much more extensive the damage was as a result of leaving the ichor-soaked garment on. Lisa still seemed composed, and Adrian wasn’t actively dying, so Trevor’s brain was able to equilibrate some. He took in the angry pink splotches pressed into Adrian’s skin, following them up his chest to where they were darkest, where the ichor pooled around his ears and face.

Demons had a nasty habit of exploding when they died. Trevor’s best guess was that when whatever killed it delivered the final blow, Adrian must have been unconscious already, and he caught an unlucky splash to the face. It would explain why he seemed as calm as he did, if he didn’t see anything.

As if she could read Trevor’s mind, Lisa spoke up.

"What was it?"

Trevor looked up from the peeling skin. "Pardon?"

"When we spoke on the phone, there was a lot going on. What attacked him?"

Trevor's brain was too scattered to think of a decent lie. “Chemical spill” and “animal attack” were hard to reconcile at the best of times. "I - I didn't see"

There was a pause before Lisa replied, steadily, "Alright."

Trevor kept his eyes trained on Adrian’s hair; it was the least painful thing to look at. He owed both of them more. But what could Lisa possibly do with the information that a demon attacked her son? Assuming they believed him. From any angle, he had let them down.

"A bear, maybe? It knocked me out before I got a good look." Trevor knew it sounded false, but she hadn't seen the actual site of the attack, and the blood soaking the pair of them washed away most of the telltale ichor. She had no reason to sound so suspicious.

They continued speeding down the tree lined road.

"How is he?" Trevor caught a glimpse of her eyes in the rearview, concerned and piercing.

He didn't get a verbal reply.

"Are we going to a hospital?"

"We’re going to my apartment. It's better for him there."

Trevor gritted his teeth. Rage wasn't going to be productive. He'd seen far too many bodies come through after grandma gave up chemo in favor of essential oils and prayer.

"Look, I can respect that you might have opinions about modern medicine and that he's your son, but he's an adult, you can't decide this for him. Whatever you have at home -"

"In case you've forgotten, I'm a board certified medical practitioner."

"He needs an ER!"

"You don't know what he needs!" She snapped. Immediately, she drew a sharp breath. "My apologies for my tone. I can understand your concern."

Adrian shifted, his eyes fluttering slightly. "Don' fight," he mumbled.

"Hey, no, we're not fighting. I'm just being stupid." Trevor moved some stray hairs away from where they had stuck to the seeping mess on his face. The skin felt clammy beneath his fingertips.

"Mm."

Trevor tried to force himself to smile through his grimace.

"We're almost there." Trevor wasn't sure who she was addressing until she continued, "He trusted you to call me, right? That has to count for something."

"I…" he trailed off. The weariness of so long in panic mode was creeping in at the edges now that Adrian was borderline stable. "I guess." It was a weak response, but Trevor was weak.

He saw the back of Lisa's braid bob against the headrest "Just keep him from sliding off the seat for a few more minutes."

Trevor returned to his task with renewed focus, bracing himself against each sharp turn and bump in the road.

  


"Uh, where do you want him?" Trevor eyed the kitchen table beyond the entryway. Lisa emerged from the closet, gesturing for Trevor to follow with the roll of sheet plastic in her hand. After his forced rest in the car, he was able to carry Adrian again, and was struggling to maneuver the pair of them through the narrow hallways of Lisa’s apartment. He caught up in the living room

"The couch will work fine. Could you hand me those scissors?" She gestured to the desk on the other side of the room and began tossing aside throw pillows. It took a half second for her to parse Trevor's panicked expression. She sighed, and managed a begrudging smile. "You can set him down for a bit. It's okay."

Trevor tightened his grip and opened his mouth to protest.

"He's going to be okay. You may not believe me, but he's been through worse." She nodded, inducing Trevor to mimic. "Scissors, please."

It took a minute of shuffling bodies and crinkling plastic around the cramped space, but they soon had Adrian outstretched on the couch. Trevor hated how still he looked. Like wet clay, completely inert. The longer he saw him like that, laid out, arms by his sides, the harder it was to imagine him in motion again.

Lisa hovered around the body - _Adrian_ , he chastised himself - checking for vital signs and nodding accordingly. She seemed satisfied, which was something.

From her kneeling position, she sat back on her heels and looked to Trevor, still pressed against the wall. She sighed helplessly and met his eyes .

"Trevor, I’m sorry, but I think -"

"I should go. Yeah, you're probably right." Trevor nodded a bit frenetically. "Yeah, I should go." What was he doing here in the first place? They'd barely been dating, if you could even call it that, for two months, and now he was in his mother's apartment as he lay unconscious and bloody on the tiny floral couch. What was he going to contribute here?

"Please don't take offense. I wouldn't ask, but -" she turned to look at Adrian, then back to Trevor. "I think it's what he would prefer."

Trevor's stomach turned to lead and sank to his knees. He opened and closed his mouth once, but the words wouldn't cooperate.

"Okay."

"I'll make sure he calls you tomorrow."

Trevor nodded. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to say. The cold blood soaking his shirt drew his attention and he looked down, realizing for the first time that he looked an absolute mess.

Lisa made sure he had a clean shirt before ushering him on his way.

***

Apparently, his mother only closed the blackout curtains when his father was in town. Sun cut in from the living room window and jabbed through Adrian's eyelids, prompting a low growl and an attempt to roll over. As soon as he moved, the sharp pain in his leg reminded him why he wasn't in his own bed.

"You're awake, wonderful." Lisa's voice came from across the room, by the entrance to the kitchen. He heard her walk closer, bringing with her the scent of something lovely and warm. Adrian opened his eyes to a squint and watched her draw closed the heavy curtains before stopping at the couch. "You need to call Trevor."

"Is that blood?" Adrian pushed himself up, burying his wince.

"Did you hear what I said?" Lisa crossed her arms, moving the mug out of reach.

"Yes, just -" He sighed theatrically. "Please?"

His mother raised her eyebrows. "With manners like that, I might just keep it for myself."

Adrian rolled his eyes. "Good to know there's no sympathy for demon attacks."

Lisa's face dropped and she passed him the mug. With a pensive gaze, she watched him rapidly down the blood. "Was it really?"

He lowered the mug and regarded his hands, wrapped around the ceramic. "Yeah. Pretty sure, anyway."

Lisa leaned down and pressed herself into a hug. "Oh, sweetheart."

Tears pricked at his eyes, sudden as the tightness in his throat.

"I'm glad you're okay."

Afraid to speak, Adrian nodded. Lisa squeezed tighter before releasing him and standing back up. She must have noted the moisture in his cheeks, but chose to remain silent on the issue. Instead, she plucked the empty mug from her son's hands and strode off to the kitchen. "One more of these, then we're getting into details."

  


He took a few minutes to walk around the apartment and make sure his leg still worked. He felt like he’d been hit by a truck, which wasn’t all that far from the truth. Lisa chided him when he tried to stretch the ache in his side, worried he would disrupt the progress on his ribs.

He’d settled back down on the couch and was picked at the dressing on his leg to avoid the piercing stare of his mother sitting across from him.

“Why haven’t you told him anything?”

Adrian shrugged. He felt like a sullen teenager, sitting in his parents’ apartment, sipping microwaved blood out of a mug from the local public radio station. He wished he had an answer.

“I know it’s not really any of my business, but your safety is. You don’t think both of you would be better off if he knew? Adrian, you should have seen the look on his face.”

“It’s not - it’s a very casual thing.” He kept his eyes locked on the floor. Thankfully, he was still suffering enough blood loss that his blush was disguised. “It’s not worth it.”

Lisa raised her eyebrows. “It would have been worth it yesterday.”

“It was a freak thing. And we both still survived, didn’t we?” He heard his voice raising in pitch and cut himself off. Maybe he wasn’t processing this as well as he thought. “I don’t think all my partners need all the gorey details.” He smiled, mostly to reassure himself.

He was glad he was having this conversation with his mother. Even if she couldn’t sympathize with the exact details of his plight, she could understand the nuance of the situation. His father always drew a hard, often Machiavellian line when it came to disclosure of vampire information: share nothing, or divulge it all and be prepared to silence any secret-keepers. Adrian would like to think that his stance had softened over the years, but it was hard to say. Either way, Adrian preferred to explain only what he needed too, as circumstances demanded. It gave him the most space to backpedal or bail completely, and it had worked out well so far. Mostly.

“Do you think …” he paused for a deep breath, which he regretted when his ribs immediately protested. “Do you think the demon was after me?”

Lisa leaned back in her armchair and adjusted her grip on her coffee. She thought for a moment and took a sip. “I don’t know, sweetheart. I wasn’t there. I doubt even your father would have answers. It’s bizarre, there’s no question of that, but … I don’t know. I’m sorry.” Adrian caught the barest hint of a waver in her voice, but she hid her face with another sip of coffee.

The thought that he could have brought this thing down on Trevor made him feel sick to his stomach. Rationally, he knew there were bigger, badder monsters out there, but in practice, he and his family were the top of the food chain. They didn’t have anything to fear. Demons and monster hunters were little more than fairy tales now, so rare was their actual occurrence. Dating a vampire was supposed to put you in the eye of the hurricane, and here Adrian had gone and thrown Trevor into the storm he couldn’t even see.

“Call Trevor. It’s something to do, and I think you’ll feel better after.” Lisa was back to staring him down again. Adrian had been told before that his gaze was unsettling, and he’d long since realized this came entirely from his mother’s side. He assessed the red traces in the bottom of his cup with a frown.

“What am I supposed to say?”

Lisa shrugged, paired with a silly grin that warmed Adrian’s heart by at least a couple degrees. “I’m not in charge of your life. You can start by thanking him on my behalf, though. I worry he thinks I don’t like him.”

“I think that’s just his personality.” Adrian smiled. The thought of talking to Trevor was beginning to burn away the fog of the past twenty-four hours.

***

Trevor was wary of the unfamiliar phone number. He paused his pacing momentarily to dismiss the call. If it was for work, they should call the work phone. He had slept for maybe three hours last night before giving up on that particular endeavor; he doubted he was going to be very coherent anyway.

His phone buzzed, disrupting his worrying yet again. His scowl softened when he saw the message.

_trevor, this is Adrian_

_I left my phone in your car_

_pick up pls_

He called back and got an answer before the first ring was over.

“Trevor?”

“Uh, yeah?” The man cursed himself for sounding so stupid. “Sorry, are you - is everything okay?”

I took a second for Trevor to realize the sound coming from the other end of the line was a chime-like laugh. “Yes. Yes, I’m okay.” He paused for a moment before continuing, “Are you? Okay?”

It was Trevor’s turn to laugh, albeit more coarsely. “Yes, holy shit, I’m fine! Only mildly concussed.”

“Do you get a lunch break? I want to bring you a thank you present. And get my phone back.”

“Adrian, oh my god, you definitely shouldn’t be moving around right now. I can drive over and drop it off if you give me a minute here.” Trevor scanned the room for his coat and keys. He’d spent the better past of the morning tidying up spaces that had no right to be tidied, and he had already forgotten where he’d tucked things away.

“It looked worse than it was. A day of rest, plenty of fluids - I’m basically back to normal.” More easy laughter. Trevor tried to imagine what his face looked liked, but it was covered up by smears of demon blood and raw panic. He shook his head.

“Fine, Jesus. I, uh, I told everybody I was working from home today, so you can stop by whenever. Can’t I just meet you wherever you are?”

“Inviting yourself to my place? How forward.” The smirk was audible. “Don’t you always work from home, technically speaking?”

“You are such an asshole.” Each barb worked to carefully unpick the knot in Trevor’s chest.

“I can be over in an hour or so; how does that sound?”

“I don’t think I can say anything that’s going to stop you, so yeah, sounds great.”

“I -” Adrian started, before clearing his throat abruptly. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Trevor managed a meager, “Same here,” before hanging up.

  


Adrian arrived on his doorstep like a fucking ghost: pale, gaunt, and completely unexpected. Trevor blinked at the spectre for a moment before opening the door wider.

“You’re early?”

Smiling, he pushed one of the coffees he was carrying into Trevor’s hands. “The line was short.” He noted the fact Trevor still hadn’t moved out of the doorway and went on, “May I come in? Or do I need to ask for a formal invitation?”

Trevor gestured for him to enter and watched his affected gait. He had a bit of a limp, but he _was_ walking. Adrian looked between the sofa and the barstools in the kitchen, opting for the latter.

“I figured you would have your preferred accoutrement around here, so it’s just black coffee.”

Trevor had followed him into the kitchen and leaned back against the opposite counter. He struggled to compute what he was seeing. Yesterday, the petite man now sitting in his kitchen had survived a full-force attack from a demon. He was wearing a dark green sweater with a drapey cowl-neck, exposing pinkened, slightly shiny skin where hours ago had been etched with burns. Was he just jumping at shadows? Did he really want to play the dashing hero so badly that he blew this thing up into a demon attack to boost his ego? He stood in silence for a minute, unsure of whether he should initiate the conversation or wait for Adrian to prompt.

He started speaking simultaneously with Adrian. “I don’t understand -”

“I think we skipped a few steps.” Adrian froze and looked to Trevor. “You first.”

“Oh no no, it’s your turn. I can wait.”

“It looked worse than it was. I wouldn’t be up and moving around otherwise.”

Trevor hadn’t realized he was shaking his head.

“Is it so unbelievable? We were both taken by surprise, and it was scary as hell. But we’re both still in one piece.”

Trevor grimaced. He couldn’t let the stupid pestering questions in his head ruin this for him. They were both fine, that was what mattered. The thing that attacked them, whatever it was, was long gone. It was fine.

“I’m sorry,” pleaded Adrian in a small voice.

Trevor’s eyes flipped up from where he’d been glaring at the floor. “What? Don’t - ugh. I’m sorry. Actually, scratch that. Neither of us need to be sorry to each other for a stupid random thing that happened to us. Like you said, we’re both fine, so it’s fine, right?” Trevor didn’t know who he was trying to convince, but he did know that if either of them started weeping right now, in the middle of the day without an emergency situation as impetus, they would cross a threshold Trevor was absolutely not ready for. Adrian nodded at the to-go cup clutched in his folded hands. He took a beat before meeting Trevor’s gaze.

“The point I was trying to get to is a dinner invitation. I can’t let the only circumstances under which you’ve met either of my parents be mortal peril. It’s weird.”

“I can’t, I mean, are we _there_ yet?” Trevor balked.

Adrian shrugged. “I’ve met your mother.”

“Because you got lost and she took pity on you. And then you banged your head on a hearse. I don’t think that counts.”

“It’s not a problem if you say no. This isn’t a ‘define the relationship’ thing, I think my mother just feels guilty about her first impression and wants to do something nice.” Adrian softly tapped his nails on the counter. Trevor didn’t believe Adrian would even bring this up if he wanted Trevor to refuse. He was difficult to read at the best of times, but he didn’t seem agitated, only a bit nervous.

“Will your dad be there?”

Adrian sighed, but a smile crept onto his face. “Yes.”

“Then yes, I’m all in.” There was no way he was passing up the opportunity to meet this legendary weirdo. He must have chosen wisely, because his enthusiasm was returned in full with a sharp-toothed grin.

***

Adrian pulled into the driveway slowly and watched the headlights pool against the iron-trimmed garage door. He bit back his sigh. It was going to be fine. Four hours, maximum. If he had to turn into a bat and flee, he would. He’d never attempted animal transformation before, but there's a first time for everything.

“This house is adorable. It’s like a fairy tale cottage.” Trevor was grinning madly. “Wish I could see it in the day.” Even in the minimal light, the stacked stone walls and verdant landscaping stood out.

“Well, we’re here now.” Adrian didn’t realize how sharp his voice sounded until Trevor set a hand on his shoulder. The weight of it anchored him to his seat.

“Is everything okay?” Trevor said. Adrian toyed with the keys. “Just tell me what you want me to do.”

“This is ridiculous. I can’t believe we’re doing this.” He covered his face with one hand. “You have a _cobbler_.”

“I didn’t have time for profiteroles, sorry.” Trevor’s smile grew concerned. “Look, if I need to fake being sick or something, just say the word. I have zero shame.”

“I - thank you.” Adrian looked up. He hoped his eyes weren’t reflecting back the porchlights.

“This is a step back, right? Lowering the stakes.”

Adrian tried to stifle his amusement at the wording and ended up laughing with an ugly snort. It lightened the mood enough he felt comfortable holding the hand on his shoulder. “Right.”

  


Lisa threw open the door with a smile on her face. She pulled Adrian into a one-armed hug across the threshold as she eased the door open farther, letting light from the house spill onto the tiny porch. There were rocking chairs and hanging flower pots on all sides. Adrian could hear his heart rate pick up as Trevor gripped his cobbler tighter. 

Lisa barreled ahead, “It’s so good to see you again, Trevor!” She gestured for them to come in.

“Your house is lovely.” Trevor was uncharacteristically stiff, and Adrian smiled to himself. He let his shoulder brush up against Trevor’s as they made their way deeper into the house, more touchy than he typically was in public. He was supposed to be the nervous one here.

“Thank you,” Lisa beamed. She led them to the table, a wide, solid wood affair, and pulled out a chair. “I feel it reflects my tastes much better than the apartment, but the location is far from convenient.”

Adrian took a seat and motioned for Trevor to do the same. The man looked between Adrian and Lisa with barely concealed distress. “I brought a cobbler, I hope that’s okay. And your shirt, freshly laundered. Which, thank you again for that. I’m not sure they would have let me in the cab otherwise.”

Lisa laughed. “You’re too kind. Here, let me take those.”

Adrian watched the awkward exchange from his seat at the table. Unless it had been hidden away in preparation for tonight, he knew there was blood stocked in the fridge, and it was killing him to know it was off limits while Trevor was present. It would surely take the edge off the second-hand anxiety he was experiencing at the moment.

Lisa clapped her hand down to stop the serving spoon from sliding away.

“Is this silver?” The woman held up the shallow utensil to inspect it, curious.

“Yeah, it’s an old family thing. My dad pressured me into bringing it, since any dessert I could bring was destined to be in a Pyrex. He thought it would make a good impression. I thought it was overkill, but I’m no expert.” He raised his hands in mock surrender.

Adrian hadn’t gotten a good look on the way over, but he could see the fine etching and scalloped edge now. He hoped he hadn’t done anything to make Trevor feel like he needed to demonstrate his wealth. They’d never talked about it, but he hadn’t tried to hide it either. It was the inevitable result of centuries of accrued interest and becoming one’s own heir.

“Well, consider me impressed. Though the Pyrex is lovely as well. Now, go sit down and talk about things you don’t want me to hear for a few minutes, I need to check on the roast.” With that, Lisa disappeared around the corner, leaving the pair of them alone.

Trevor fell heavily into one of the stiff-backed chairs beside Adrian, who let himself lean onto his shoulder.

“You’re doing great.”

“Am I? I wasn’t sure if your mom always had this kind of energy or if it was just because you were dying before.”

“I wasn’t dying.”

“You were a little bit dying.” He rolled his eyes. He was glad Trevor could joke about it, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t annoying.

“Just so you know, she’s been reading about green burial all week so she has conversation topics to drop on you.”

Trevor barked a laugh. “I appreciate the warning. I didn’t realize I was supposed to study for this.”

“It’s only extra credit. And charm counts for points too, so I’m sure you’ll ace it.”

  


Lisa joined them at the table shortly, smelling of rosemary and sage. As predicted, she immediately pounced on Trevor with questions about his job, to the point that Adrian began to feel like he had been slacking off as a partner. He’d never even thought to ask about polyurethane in casket varnishes.

His father emerged from the study not long before dinner was served. Adrian watched Trevor’s face closely for his reaction, and to his credit, he hid it well. Even glamoured, Vlad Tepes cut an imposing figure. Adrian could remember being a little boy and hiding behind the couch the first time he saw him disguised. With flat teeth and flat, brown eyes, the points of his ears reduced to human scale, along with the rest of his body, Adrian thought he was a stranger.

He stooped and placed a quick kiss on Lisa’s cheek before turning to Trevor. Adrian appreciated that he had made some attempt to dress casually, though the tailored blazer was probably more than the occasion called for. Trevor smiled genially and extended his hand.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Tepes.” Adrian wouldn’t have been surprised to learn Trevor had been practicing in front of the mirror, so swift was his delivery. His father smirked as he shook his hand.

“Enchantée, Mr. Belmont. I’ll admit, I was surprised when I finally learned your last name.” He lowered himself into the seat beside Lisa, across the table from Adrian.

Trevor nervously ran his hand through the hair on the back of his head. “Yeah, I guess it’s a little weird. We went back and forth on taking out the billboards, but it’s a tough market. I suppose it’s a good sign that you’re familiar, though.”

“Of course.” Adrian’s father spoke in a particular tone that indicated he knew more than he was letting on. Through a complicated series of facial expressions, Adrian tried to communicate that he should cut it out, but he doubted his father would listen to him, even if he did notice.

  


Everything was fine until dessert. Lisa was delighted to have a captive audience she could talk to about the textbook. She and her husband had been working on it more recently, and in her opinion, the cottage atmosphere was much more conducive to writing. Adrian didn’t know the details of Trevor’s educational background, but he was amazed how well he was able to stretch his basic biology knowledge to keep up. On the rare occasions his partners encountered his parents, they tended to cower at the discussion of secondary metabolites and mechanobiology. But Trevor was adaptable; he used what knowledge he had, asked good questions, and plied the both of them with compliments and his own subtle charisma.

Trevor suggested that the cobbler be reheated in the oven for a few minutes, perhaps looking for a break from the conversation. Of course, that would be too easy, so Adrian’s father excused himself to go take care of it. Barely a minute later, he returned and asked Adrian to join him. His expression was stiff and his voice had lost the jovial edge it carried moments before. If Trevor or his mother noticed anything, they didn’t show it, and returned to talking about tissue fixatives or whatever topic it was that Adrian had lost track of twenty minutes ago.

In the kitchen, Adrian was even more confused to find his father standing at the counter, gripping Trevor’s serving spoon with a multi-colored crochet potholder. It would have been comical if not for the grave expression on his face.

“I’m sorry, Adrian.”

The young man was no less baffled by the situation. “Is this about the spoon? We can just use one of ours, I doubt Trevor will mind. Or one of us can serve you.” His father had a tendency to blow things out of proportion, but if he was this worked up about the fact Trevor had brought silver into their home, there must be something else wrong.

Solemnly, he shook his head. “I failed you.”

Adrian took a deep breath. He did not have time for whatever absurd vampire bullshit he was about to get a monologue about. “Hold on, please. Whatever this is -”

His father presented him the spoon like it was an explanation, and Adrian plucked it from the potholder. Vlad leaned back against the counter and scrunched up the textured fabric in his fist as he observed his son.

Adrian frowned. It was a fancy old serving spoon. The handle was cast in an ornate vine detail and a family crest was etched into the bowl. “Should I know what’s going on right now?”

“I thought it was a coincidence; the chances that his family, _this_ family settles here - it’s infinitesimal.”

Adrian stopped himself from rolling his eyes. This wasn’t the first time his father rediscovered some old grudge from a century ago. Typically, nothing ever truly resurfaced, seeing as anyone else party to the rancor was long dead.

“Is there a reason you needed to pull me away from dinner to talk about this? They’re going to wonder what’s going on now.”

“This is serious. This is _Belmonts_.” He spat the name like it was a curse.

Adrian looked down to hide his dissatisfied expression. “I’m not going to make accommodations in my dating life just because Trevor has the same last name as some ancient family you have beef with.” He could tell his father was working not to growl at him. His mother had trained both of them well. “It’s not as though it’s even that uncommon of a name. What’s the statistic, like ten percent of men in Asia are descendents of Ghengis Khan? In the time since whatever terrible thing in the past happened, how many Belmonts must there be?”

“Are you accusing me of being paranoid?” His voice lowered as he stood to his full glamoured height, still well over six feet.

“No, of course not!” Adrian stage-whispered. This was taking too long. He switched on the neglected oven to a low heat and slid the dessert inside. He took a step back and crossed his arms. “I just don’t see what the issue is here. It’s a _spoon_.”

His father blinked at the oven as though he had forgotten why they were supposed to be here in the first place. When he looked at Adrian, the emotion was easy to read, even through his disguised eyes.

“It’s my fault you don’t have the perspective. I didn’t think - I thought their line had died out. This isn’t a handful of monster-slaying vigilantes, Adrian. In all my years, that family was the only thing that posed a real threat.”

“What, humans?” His father chuckled and Adrian immediately regretted speaking.

“Remarkably, yes. Skilled, intelligent, _cunning_ \- they’re lethal. You and I are what we are simply by edict of biology; we have no choice in the matter. This is their purpose, their divine mission.”

This was the absurdity Adrian had been braced for. He kept his scoff to a minimum when he replied, “It’s the twenty-first century. Even if - _even if_ \- Trevor is part of this terrible bloodline, he’s not off slaying night creatures. He’s a funeral director. He, and his whole family for that matter, are in the phonebook. They have a website. He hasn’t said anything about the demon attack, and I would think that would be right in his wheelhouse, if what you’re saying is true. He thinks these -” he gestured to his mouth, “- are veneers!”

The atmosphere in the tiny room grew icy, in direct contrast to the aroma of blueberry and streusel emanating from the oven.

“Don’t you find it a little odd that he escaped with barely a scratch?”

“It knocked him unconscious. It was distracted by me.” Adrian tightened his jaw.

“Demons don’t materialize out of thin air.”

“What are you insinuating?”

“These people are ruthless. My … colleagues and I tried to keep track of their number and tactics, for our own safety.”

Adrian squirmed. He hated when his father talked about the past like this, as though he was just some hapless medieval villager.

“The slyer ones learned that a more oblique approach was often effective. Instead of charging into the fortified castle, chancing their luck against whatever beasties stumbled into their path, the smart ones knew how to playact. Just an innocent villager, extending a kindness to the monster prowling through their streets. Who in their right mind would say no to a dinner invitation from their prey?” His father’s face twisted into a grin that Adrian had worked hard to block from his mind. He checked on the cobbler progress as the old man continued.

“We used to call it the ‘tureen gambit’. The tricky Belmont goes on to serve a fine meal on fine silver and gets a private show to ogle. They watch their guest squirm, singeing their hands or having their strength sapped by the residue in their food. In the end, it was being polite that got them killed. They couldn’t think of a good excuse to leave, so they stayed into the lion’s den until it was too late.”

The earlier tension was beginning to spark true rage, flicking in bright starts behind Adrian’s eyes.

“It’s fine if you don’t like him, but to draw this whole thing out, to accuse him of…” Adrian clenched his teeth and tried to keep a cool head.

His father’s voice was soft again, back to the kind man who raised him, who loved his mother and delivered droning synthetic biology lectures to grad students.

“I wouldn’t have said anything if I didn’t think it was important. A week ago, a demon nearly tore you to pieces, I … I just don’t want you to get hurt. He stepped forward slowly and placed a hand on Adrian’s shoulder. “Can you understand that?

Adrian opened his mouth to speak, hoping the right words would come out, but his mind came up short. He stepped to the side and looked for a towel. His father set the potholder he had been holding on the counter, well within Adrian’s line of sight, but he stuck with his plan and took the towel from the dishwasher.

He straightened and turned to his father, brandishing a thoroughly warmed blueberry cobbler and the crucial family heirloom.

“I’ll make you a plate. Feel free to grab the pitcher, they’re probably out of water at this point,” he stated, bland and uninterested, before stalking out of the room.

  


When he returned to the table, Trevor and his mother were laughing. Adrian tried to smile, but he knew his face looked sour. It wasn’t surprising that Trevor would pick up on the new tension when Adrian’s father reentered the room shortly after. He stood beside Lisa and wrapped an arm loosely around her shoulders. As she leaned back to get a better view of his face, he addressed the table. Adrian toyed with the spoon in his hand, adamantly keeping his eyes down.

“My apologies, but I hadn’t realized how late it was getting. I didn't make the progress I intended to this afternoon, so I’m afraid I must remove myself to the study for the remainder of the evening. I’m glad I had the opportunity to meet you, Trevor.” He nodded without waiting for a response and strode out.

Trevor looked between Adrian and Lisa, trying to piece together the puzzle of what just transpired. He drew his brows together in the universal expression of _did I say something?_ Adrian tried to shake off the stares from both of them; obviously, something had gone down in the kitchen, but there really wasn’t much he could say about it right now.

Like a valiant knight, Trevor came to his rescue. He checked the time and looked genuinely surprised.

“I guess it is getting late. Am I a terrible guest if I start making my exit now? It’s been really wonderful, honestly, it’s just that I have work early tomorrow and it helps if I’m conscious.” He offered up a floppy smile as apology. “You should keep the cobbler though, I’d feel bad otherwise.”

Lisa’s smile was tight, but her voice was warm. “Not at all! But I don’t think it’s up to me.”

Adrian knew he was being quiet, that it was strange and offputting, but he was struggling to be present in any capacity.

“Oh no, it’s totally fine.” He stopped himself before he attempted to stumble through another sentence. The frustration he was up against was confusing in its own right, and he didn’t know how to even begin to parse it. Old, ugly feelings about his father he thought he had moved past years ago threatened to rear their heads, coupled with an unfamiliar question of trust. He couldn’t be offended that his father was concerned, but it was ridiculous. Ridiculous in the way people dying of hypothermia stripping off their clothes was ridiculous: morbid and bizarre. The irony of it writhed in his gut, despite his best efforts to tamp it down.

He must have tuned out the exchange going on around him, because Trevor was already standing, moving to press his hand between Adrian’s shoulderblades.

Lisa insisted that Trevor take his dessert with him, on the grounds it would be impossible for her and her husband to finish it by themselves, and that it was a perfect excuse to do dinner again. Trevor cradled the beleaguered cobbler as they all stood at the door, exchanging timid thank yous and goodbyes before venturing into the dark.

  


Adrian didn’t say anything as he folded into the car and turned the ignition. He gnawed on his lip as he waited for Trevor to buckle his seatbelt, then pulled out of the drive.

“Are we going to talk about this?” Trevor’s voice was gentle and professional, in a tone Adrian had never heard before. Work-voice.

“Do you care if we go to my apartment? Your kitchen is sad and I’m not going to let you go home with an untouched cobbler.”

“Come again?”

“You were thoughtful and made food and I messed this whole thing up by being weird, and it’s fucking pathetic if it doesn’t get eaten tonight.”

“I - sure.” Adrian glanced over to see Trevor directing his confused expression toward his lap.

“I know that sounds insane, but -”

“No, let’s do this.” Trevor spoke with true resolve. “How much of a dent do you think we need to make? Four people, a couple of second helpings …” he trailed off, running through the cobbler-math.

Adrian couldn’t honestly say what compelled him to blurt, “We’re eating the whole thing.”

He realized how dead serious he must look when Trevor started grinning, shaking his head in a laugh. “I’m not exactly sure what point you’re trying to prove, but I respect the commitment.”

Adrian surprised himself when his own laugh threw itself from his lips.

***

He hadn’t been lying about the skull collection. The bookcase beside the TV was a makeshift curio cabinet, reading material interspersed with specimens. Trevor was taking a minute to snoop while Adrian grabbed them both forks.

On the other side of the console was a low table, covered in a very intentional-looking array of silk flowers and a pair of skulls. Trevor approached carefully, taking in the sketchbook and assorted art materials pushed into a corner on the other side of the room. He observed the arrangement again: a partial deer skull with some kind of greenery spilling out of it, nestled beside something with sharp teeth - a wolf, maybe. Several larger flowers, peonies or hydrangeas, were worked into the background.

“You paint?” he called over his shoulder.

Adrian returned and handed Trevor a utensil before settling onto the arm of the loveseat with the entire dish in his lap.

“Not well.” He wasted no time carving a modest bite out of the dessert and bringing it to his mouth.

Adrian hadn’t turned the overhead lights on when they entered, and Trevor wasn’t about to do it himself, so it was difficult to see exactly what was going on with the partially painted canvases tucked behind the pile.

“I take it you’re into still life?” He gestured to the arrangement on the table.

“Have you ever heard of vanitas paintings before?”

“You know I haven’t.” Trevor joined him on the loveseat, opting for an actual cushion.

Adrian flashed a sharp grin before passing the dish to Trevor.

“It’s a recurring motif in medieval funerary art, and in many other works for centuries after that, that demonstrates the futility of earthly pleasure and the certainty of death. Artists would often juxtapose symbols of beauty and decay, things like fruit and flowers, or wealth and ephemerality.” His initially condescending tone quickly dissolved into earnest enthusiasm, and Trevor felt his heart begin to melt.

“Oh my god, you’re such a nerd,” he laughed.

“Me? I’ve never seen my mother more excited to lecture someone about her book, and her nerd radar is finely tuned.” Trevor took another bite of cobbler as Adrian haughtily tilted his chin. He chewed for a moment, thoughtful.

“Is your middle name really Farenheit?”

Trevor nearly snorted cinnamon crumble out his nose at Adrian’s shocked expression, before the man kicked him in the shin.

“I can’t believe this. I leave you two alone for five minutes and my darkest secrets are exposed.” Shaking his head in a flutter of blonde hair, he snagged back the dish. “That one’s not my fault.”

“Still pretty funny, though.”

“I’m lucky it wasn’t worse. I hear that Lavoisier was on the table at one point.”

“ _No_ ,” Trevor gasped. He wouldn’t have been able to wipe the smile off his face, even if he wanted to.

Their laughter faded peacefully away, leaving them in a comfortable silence as they passed the dish between them. Admittedly, Trevor was beginning to feel a bit sick, but he wasn’t a quitter.

His focus was interrupted when Adrian slid down from the arm, folding his knees up to his chest. Trevor’s eyes had adjusted to the low light, but it was difficult to make out his expression when he softly spoke.

“What do you think it was?” He took a slow breath. “Sorry, I mean, what do you think attacked us, in the woods?”

Trevor set down his fork. “I don’t know.”

He was telling the truth. Sure, it was a demon, but he knew literally nothing else. He got one good look before he was out, and it was long gone by the time he was conscious again. He’d gone back the day after to scope out the scene, but the movements of nature had covered up most of anything that had been there to begin with. There were still some traces of sludgy black ichor burning holes into the ground, and considering the extent of the burns on Adrian, it was probably dead, exploded in a burst of sulfurous goo. The issue was the fact demons didn’t leave corpses, so there was no way to know for sure what exactly it had been.

What scared Trevor was the fact demons, unlike other dark creatures, came from somewhere, some _one_ with intent. Presumably, this was the same thing that had been attacking family contacts in the last month. It only followed that it had sought out Trevor specifically, before getting distracted at the prospect of more easy prey. He grimaced at the thought.

“There’s just no way to tell.”

Adrian nodded slowly. He looked like he was holding back, though Trevor couldn’t guess whether it was tears or something else entirely. He set aside the half-eaten cobbler and reached for Adrian’s hands, before hesitating. After a long second, the other man closed the space between them and allowed Trevor to envelope his folded fists.

“It really scared the shit out of me. I thought … I was afraid I was going to lose you.” Trevor squeezed his eyes closed. He needed to meet Adrian where he was, but god, he hoped he judged correctly. This could all just be an extended response to the trauma of the attack, and Trevor had bumbled into this conversation with his inappropriate feelings. Adrian pulled their hands to his mouth for a chaste kiss, and Trevor dared to open his eyes.

“Same here.” Adrian let their hands fall apart as a shaky smile emerged across his features. “I’m not sure I’ve ever felt so small.”

Trevor nodded, still flooded with relief.

“It makes you wonder, what something like that is afraid of?” He blinked slowly, considering something. Trevor let himself laugh a little.

“What does the big bad beast fear?”

Adrian smirked, confident once again. “I don’t know. Running out of tasty humans, I suppose.”

“Or the huntsman and his axe.” Adrian shrugged flippantly at Trevor’s deadpan, before he broke into a grin.

“Fair enough.” He looked at the coffee-table where the half-eaten dessert lay abandoned. “You haven’t made very much progress.”

“Me? I thought this was a team endeavor.”

“I think you may have to stay the night if you want to finish.” Adrian sat up straighter so he could look inquisitively down at Trevor, half-sprawled into the corner of the loveseat.

“How very rational of you.”

Adrian nodded primly as he moved up to his knees and began pulling his shirt over his head.

“Do you have any other rational thoughts you’d like to share?” Heat rose to the surface of his skin, as Adrian tracked his smallest movements, struggling not to address the tightness in his slacks.

“To begin, I think you should focus on something else for a while.” The lean figure arched forward, a slow, controlled movement, until his hands framed Trevor’s head, fingers digging into the upholstery of the bolstered arm. His loose hair hung in a curtain beyond his shoulder, further obscuring Trevor’s limited vision. Trevor didn’t realize he’d forgotten to respond.

“So easily distracted,” Adrian purred. He tilted his head and the very edges of his hair brushed Trevor’s cheekbones.

Abruptly, Trevor reached over his partner’s back and tugged down, startling him enough to slip forward and thump his face on the arm of the couch. Now laying flat on Trevor’s tragically still-clothed body, he rolled slightly to the side so he could glare at him as he rubbed his nose.

“It’s what you get for being a tease,” said Trevor, as innocently as he could manage.

Without hesitation, Adrian rolled back into place and nipped at his earlobe, then apologetically pulled it into his mouth. They were both surprised at the noise Trevor made in response.

Breathily, Adrian asked, “Do you actually have work early tomorrow?” His nose brushed against the shell of Trevor’s ear.

“Absolutely not.”

“Excellent,” he whispered, before allowing his teeth to ghost over the curve of his jaw and descending further along the expanse of flushed skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the wonderful comments on the last chapter!


End file.
